Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. Cas would get the hugs he deserves if I did.

Down Into the Dark and Deep

For The Righteous Man

"The Righteous Man is being pulled into Hell as we speak." Zachariah said, looking at the several Garrison Captains assembled before him.

Castiel stood beside his fellow Captains, slightly in awe that his Garrison was one of the ones chosen for this important task.

Despite the fact that he was the youngest of the Host, he had risen through the ranks and became a captain, known for his speed and skills in flight, sigils, and tactics. Even though he had proved himself in battle, there will still those who looked down on him due to his youth. They regarded his Garrison's task of watching the Earth to be beneath them and the perfect assignment for the young Captain. Secretly, Castiel had loved this task as he enjoyed watching over his Father's creation, but he knew too many did not agree.

Still, here his Garrison was one of the ones chosen to help save the Righteous Man.

Zachariah flew down the line, inspecting the Captains. "You are to cut a path to the Righteous Man. The ones to actually retrieve the Righteous Man will be the Seraphs who will accompany you. You will then ensure them a way out as they return him to Heaven to be healed and then return him to life." He stopped in front of Castiel and gave him a pointed look. "This is all you're supposed to do, understood?"

"Yes, sir." Castiel and the other captains responded automatically.

"Very well." Zachariah nodded his dismissal after giving the instructions of where the siege on Hell would start.

However, Castiel found himself staying back a moment longer.

"Is there a problem, Castiel?" Zachariah asked impatiently.

"Are we to know the Righteous Man's name?" Castiel wondered.

"Ah." Zachariah turned away, moving onto his next task. "His name is Dean Winchester."

"Dean Winchester." Castiel said to himself, before he nodded and turned away.

"I don't want you to go."

Castiel looked up from where he was finishing up on preening his feathers. He didn't know how long this mission would take and he probably wouldn't have time in Hell to attend to them. Since misaligned feathers would hinder his flight if things got bad, he needed to be ready. It was his final task before gathering his Garrison for the assault. With a flick of his wings, his black feathers settled into place.

No angel's wings were exactly the same. All angels had different color wings. Though there were the same colors among angels, it was never the same shade, or same pattern of a main color mixed with other colors. It was rumored that Lucifer was once so highly regarded, because his wings were pure white. How could something so light be evil? On the other hand, Castiel's were like that of the raven, black and with a glossy blue sheen where the light hit it. Balthzar's were silver and they shimmered as they shook with worry and slight anger.

"It is an honor to be given such a mission." Castiel finally replied, making sure his angel blade was in its sheath. "Are you not supposed to be in the armory as per usual?"

"It's going to be a bloody bloodbath." Balthazar snapped. "You and the others are just going to be cannon fodder. They don't care how many of you fall in order to rescue some puny human."

Castiel straightened. "This is not just some human, Balthazar; it's the Righteous Man."

"So what?" Balthazar's wings flared slightly. "It's not worth the cost!" His voice dropped to a whisper. "None of you, not even the commanding Seraphs, are allowed to take any weapons from the Vaults."

Castiel frowned. This was a large tactical mistake. Without any of the weapons, that meant that they were going in with only their angel blades. It would prolong the conflict needlessly and it would give the demons a larger time window to try to turn the Righteous Man. More would probably die, especially since it was in Hell. Demons were stronger there and angels were not as powerful.

"I see." Castiel replied, still mulling over it. "But regardless, I must go."

Balthazar sighed. "Knew you would say that." He stepped forward. "Which is why I'll be going with you."

Castiel blinked. "But…"

"It's already been approved." Balthazar smirked. "Someone's going to have to watch your back, Cassie."

"I do not like that name." Castiel grumbled.

Balthazar laughed as they flew over to the assembly. All levity left once they arrived at the gathering. Balthazar took his place besides Uriel, and Castiel positioned himself at the front of his Garrison.

Silence fell, and for a moment, all was still.

And then the angels leapt into Hell.

As any demon would tell you, Hell is, well, Hell.

Hell is where demons thrive. Hell is, by definition, the complete absence of God. It is the opposite Heaven. Heaven is cool and full of light. The souls there create their own space filled with their favorite memories that can only be shared with their soul mate. Hell, on the other hand, was dark and full of flame and smoke. Souls screamed in the face of torture or, after becoming demonized, laughed at the pain of others. The only part of Hell that wasn't hot was the area around the Cage where Lucifer dwelled and froze the surrounding area. It's probably where Dante got his idea of a Frozen Hell.

Due to the lack of God's presence, angels were not as powerful in Hell, though they were still plenty powerful than the average demon. However, their numbers were more limited. It was not necessarily the power of the demons that would overwhelm them, but the sheer number.

And angels could die in Hell.

From the moment they entered the realm, all of the angels had been beset by the demonic hordes. Castiel fought side by side his brothers and sisters as they tried to push their way through the Pit.

The darkness closed in all around them. It was like it was just as sentient as the demons that clawed at them, wishing to destroy them and smother them into its embrace and drag them down into the Pit to stay. Fire flared, only providing enough light in order to illuminate horrors that were best left unseen.

The battle was a continuous ebb and flow. The angels would manage to find a break in the forces and surge forward. The demons would counterattack and make them take one step back. It was a ceaseless dance only with more blood and death.

Even from the corner of his eye, Castiel could see the sudden flare that indicated a dying angel's Grace just burst. It angered him and he could again understand Balthazar's earlier concern. With the weapons of Heaven, this would be so much easier. And wasn't rescuing the Righteous Man the priority of Heaven right now in order to prevent Lucifer's seals from breaking? What were their higher ups thinking?

Still, Castiel couldn't worry about that as he battled yet another demon. The demons were using more and more guerilla tactics as they realized that their knowledge of the terrain gave them an advantage. Now, they were purposefully drawing back in order to lure angels into their traps. The more prideful and reckless easily fell to their fangs and claws.

Castiel made sure to keep half an eye on his Garrison and Balthazar. Luckily, he had trained them enough to resist such temptations of easy kills, and they had suffered the least casualties so far. Other garrisons were not so lucky and he could hear other captains straining to call their troops to order.

Thus was how the battle was like within the first decade of the siege on Hell.

It was as the second decade of the incursion dawned that the first Seraph died.

A ripple of shock came as a wave through the thousands of angels as they felt the death. In its wake was shock and the first smatterings of fear.

How could a Seraph be killed by measly demons?

Even angels who had always been assured of their own power, such as Uriel, were shaken. It was downright demoralizing.

And Castiel knew that frightened troops were in more danger from their fear than from the demons themselves.

"Group up!" He snapped out the order, and his Garrison was quick to attend with the other garrisons also picking up on the demand. "Do not allow yourself to separated out and stick together in teams. Work together and do not get hemmed in."

The angels followed his new strategy. In smaller teams rather than in their normal rank and file allowed more movement, and being in teams, which most angels were used to having for smaller missions, allowed strengths to be gathered and combined. The other captains followed Castiel's example.

They were further into the Pit, but at times it seemed like they were no closer to the Racks where Alistair himself was probably working on the Righteous Man. Still, as long as they worked together, they would surely win.

At least, Castiel hoped so.

As they got further into Hell, it just got darker and Hell fire sprang up in burst. Angels shied away from it, because if there was anything that angels feared about the same as Holy Fire, it was Hell fire.

Both could burn angels to death, and it would not be pleasant.

Still, despite the change in tactics, the other Seraphs were dead by the end of the second decade.

By that time, nothing Castiel or the remaining captains, for several of them had died as well, could say could keep fear at bay.

The Racks were almost in sight.

Castiel tried to take some comfort in that, but it was so hard. Their numbers were steadily dropping, and now it wasn't just from angels dying. There were some who were deserting.

It was disgraceful, in a sense, to abandon a mission. Castiel couldn't quite blame them for it though. They had tried to keep moral up, but the stream of demons never ended. Some angels had gotten to close to the Hell fire and even now, Castiel could hear their screams as they burned.

Still, Castiel considered them to be relatively lucky. None of the big hitters, ones who had an investment in Lucifer's rising and those who simply wanted the angels out of their territory, had approached them yet. Castiel feared that they would not make it through an encounter with one of them; more due to angels fleeing rather than that they could not take one of them.

By this time, they had been fighting their way through Hell for almost thirty years. All of them were exhausted. Angels had no need for sleep or sustenance once they started training, but they had nothing but nonstop battle since they had stepped foot in Hell. Even an Angel of the Lord couldn't help but feel tired after ceaseless fighting for thirty years.

Castiel ducked and weaved around the group of demons he was fighting, slicing off limbs and stabbing them in their black hearts. He heard a growl behind him, and he whirled around to see a hellhound launching for his throat. An angel blade struck the hellhound right between the eyes.

"Need some assistance, Cassie?" Balthazar teased as he yanked his blade out of the hound. Despite the atmosphere, he was trying to keep the tone light, hiding his worry.

"Thank you." Castiel nodded towards him, and took a moment to catch his breath.

That was when they felt it, the eyes of all angels present widening.

It started as a small crack, and grew to a thunderous crash. It was the sound of something powerful breaking, and they all knew what it meant.

They had failed. The Righteous Man had broken and shed blood in Hell. The First Seal had broken.

The Apocalypse was nigh.

They all took a sharp breath. The battle of their entire existence that they had been waiting for since Lucifer's Fall was around the corner, and they were going to have to scramble to protect the other seals on Earth.

The demons around them had stopped fighting, and their voices raised in cheers.

Castiel frowned and punched the nearest demon out. They had come so far, and yet it had all been for naught. What was the point? What had all of those angels died for? He felt angry, some at Heaven for not providing the resources necessary for their task and some for the Righteous Man not waiting for them.

"Dammit." Balthazar muttered, looking around at the rejoicing demons. "You'd think that all of the seals had broken."

"The Righteous Man still needs to be retrieved." Castiel growled, and made to order the troops to continue. After all, the Righteous Man would be needed if they still wanted to prevent Lucifer's rising. However, before the orders could come out, there was a more important order from on high that came through the communication channels.

"To all angels in Hell, retreat. We will regroup at the edges of Hell, and try to form a new strategy to free the Righteous Man. We will retrieve him when the time is right." The new orders echoed through the remains of the several garrisons. A bit of relief came from all of the angels present. Well, except for one.

Castiel tilted his head at these orders, and looked before him. The Racks were in sight. To go back to the beginning and restart all of this? It was insanity. It was pointless. They had already come so far.

There was more than that. Castiel could almost feel a tugging at his Grace, as gentle as a child's. It was like something, a prayer, a longing, or just a quirk of fate, was calling him, telling him to continue forward. That he needed to continue forward.

One of the things that had made Castiel a captain was that he could follow his instincts. It was considered human, but Castiel had always preferred to think that his Father was guiding him. This feeling, which could not be described fully or explained with logic, did not come often, but when he did, he followed through.

So while Balthazar was sighing and giving thanks for being able to leave, Castiel was trying to think of how to stay. In the end, Castiel decided to just be direct as per usual.

"I request permission to remain." Castiel said. He ignored Balthazar's slack-jawed expression.

There was a pause. "Why?" There was a slight tension in the voice of whoever was currently sending the orders.

"I intend to locate the Righteous Man." Castiel told the commanding officer. "It will be easier for the forces to raise him if they already know exactly where he is. Reconnaissance is necessary."

There was another pause as the matter was probably debated. Finally, they responded.

"Very well, Castiel. You may find the Righteous Man and keep watch over him. However, do not raise him until we tell you. He must only rise when the time is right."

"Understood." Castiel nodded, and turned toward the Racks, stretching his wings out to continue his journey.

"Are you insane?" Balthazar hissed, clutching his arm. "This is suicide!"

Castiel glanced over at where the rest of the angels were making a hasty retreat. "Go with them, Balthazar." He said, quietly. "I know I'm doing the right thing. I'll be fine."

Balthazar sensed the conviction in Castiel and finally sighed. "Fine." He gave a pat on his shoulder. "You better come back or I'll kill you myself." Balthazar followed after the others.

Castiel gave a small smile to his friend's back before turning forward. Determination was carved into the lines of his face as he took in the route that he would have to take.

With a snap of his wings, he was off.

In some ways, being by himself was easier in terms of going through this part of Hell. He could hide more easily, and pick off demons that approach him. The demons were actually a lot more lax than before, now that the seal had broken, and it was easier sometimes just to dodge them. He also was faster than most if they spotted him, and he didn't want to cause any large fights without any back-up.

Still, without his brethren by his side, Castiel felt himself being affected more and more by Hell's atmosphere. The miasma was as thick as the flames that burst from cracks in the ground, and the darkness seemed even closer without the light of his siblings to help him hold it at bay. Brimstone and blood scented the air, and it only grew stronger the closer he got to the Racks. The screams and pleas also got louder as he drew near.

Still, that tugging sensation remained, bringing him ever closer to where he knew the Righteous Man would be.

Castiel couldn't deny though that for the first time in his existence, he longed for the presence of his elder siblings.

Finally, after many small scrimmages and dodges, Castiel was almost at the edge of the Racks. He was about to enter the territory of Torture Central when a chill swept through him.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" A hissing, chilling voice came from behind him.

Castiel turned and lifted his blade just in time to fend off a blow that sent him crashing into the nearest jagged rack. He stifled the grunt of pain and looked up at his opponent.

A skeletal horse giving off black flames greeted him with its rider fused into its being. In short, it looked like someone had taken the top half of a person and stuck it to where a person would normally sit. The rider had thick, corded muscles and long black hair that was matted and twisted into braids, bones stuck in it like pins. Rotted teeth sneered at the angel as white eyes gleamed beneath a tarnished silver crown. It matched the silver armor which also added to the figures bulk. "Why in all of Hell would an angel be here? Especially alone?" The figure asked.

Castiel felt his Grace shiver. This was one of the beings that he had feared encountering since the excursion began. This was one of the old ones, the powerful ones. He had heard of him. "Belphegor." Castiel identified his attacker. He tightened his grip on his blade.

The demon smiled. "I see my reputation proceeds me." He gave a low, unearthly chuckle. "Still," his eyes raked over Castiel, "here I thought all of the angels had left for now." He tilted his head. "Did they abandon you?"

Castiel didn't answer. He straightened and looked towards further into the Racks where he knew the Righteous Man was waiting. He didn't dare turn his back on this demon though.

"Still looking for your precious Righteous Man?" Belphegor threw back his head and harshly laughed. "Didn't you feel the seal breaking? What use is he to you now?"

"Only the Righteous Man can stop that which he started." Castiel spoke, looking the demon in the eye.

Belphegor blinked. "You really believe that." The demon's tone was slightly incredulous. His demonic steed gave a sharp whiney, as if laughing at the angel.

Castiel didn't look away. He knew if he blinked he was a goner. Still, he had no obligation to reply to the demon.

"I see." Belphegor reached behind him and drew out a large, thick broadsword. It was dotted with blood, soot, and gouges. "Well, I cannot let you go any further. The Righteous Man is ours now." A smirk crossed his face. "And soon, he will be one of us."

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then another spurt of flame burst through the floor and the two leapt into battle.

Belphegor may have been stronger than Castiel, but Castiel was quicker. He dodged the first swing, and managed to get a swipe, catching the demon's side. The demon growled and the black flames began to burn in his eyes.

It was a deadly dance of blades. Castiel dodged the stamping hooves as well as the broadsword. He ignored the minute scratches that he gained, because for every blow he took, he managed to land two. Belphegor was not an opponent he would ever had thought he would take on, especially by himself. Still, Castiel kept his head, knowing that in battle, it was the brain that led to victory, not mere strength.

And this was the greatest obstacle blocking him from the Righteous Man.

Belphegor growled louder, enraged that he could not take out one measly angel. Suddenly, he changed the direction of his blade at the last moment, catching Castiel off guard. The flat of Belphegor's blade struck him in his chest and Castiel tumbled over. He landed dangerously close to a crevice in Hell's crust, and had to pause to catch his breath. Belphegor smirked and raised his hand.

Hell fire burst from below, and Castiel tried to roll out of the way. He wasn't entirely successful as the stench of burnt feathers filled the air.

Belphegor chuckled, dark and low. "You know," he said, slightly cocky, as he made his way towards Castiel to finish him off, "I've never seen an angel with black wings before." His smirk widened. "Makes you fit in with us, down here in the dark."

Castiel lay on the ground, breathing hard. He looked up at Belphegor as he approached.

"Maybe I shouldn't kill you." Belphegor mused. "I could hand you over to Alistair and see what kind of twisted demon you would make."

Castiel didn't reply.

"Oh, well." Belphegor hefted his blade, prepared to deal the final blow. "Thanks for all the fun!"

Thud! In a flash of silver, a head hit the crust.

Belphegor looked in shock at the skeletal horse head on the ground. Castiel used the momentary confusion to use Belphegor's own blade as a stepping-stone. He was finally face to face with the demon.

"Your arrogance is your downfall." Castiel told him as cut off his head with his angel blade. The demon lit up inside with Hell fire.

Castiel touched the ground the same moment the corpse did. He looked over his handy work. "And it is better to be underestimated rather than overestimated." He commented, even though the demon could no longer hear anything. He sheathed his blade.

He took one moment to shake out his wings. The left one hurt, but he had only been slightly touched by the Hell fire, so Castiel counted his blessings. He quickly inspected his black wings, the demon's words running through his head.

He shook off the words as best he could.

After all, he had more pressing matters.

Castiel was shocked when he finally found the Righteous Man.

The Righteous Man was cutting up a soul, a poor woman who was sobbing and begging for him to stop, but he paid her no heed as a sadistic smile crossed his face. He was excellent at what he was doing, confident in both his blade and abilities. The dark and the flame were seeping into him, infecting him, turning him, making him into a being that he had spent his whole life fighting. And at this stage, it looked like he was enjoying it.

That is not what shocked Castiel though.

Since his brethren had left almost a decade before, there had been no light in Hell. The only light Castiel saw was the one that he himself gave off. It had pushed against the darkness, but it had gotten harder and harder as years passed.

So Castiel stood in awe of the light of the Righteous Man's, no, Dean Winchester's soul.

It was still fighting so hard against the demonic infection. Every time he cut into the soul, it flared up in defiance.

It was beautiful. Probably the most beautiful thing that Castiel had ever seen in all of his years of existence and seeing all of the beauty that Heaven and Earth could offer.

It figured that he would find the greatest wonder he had seen in Hell.

Castiel had heard humans talking about a light at the end of the tunnel. For the first time, he understood the metaphor.

He watched as the soul struggled against what it had been forced to do. This was the longing that he had felt. Despite all appearances, Dean Winchester did not want to do this. If the demonic energy hadn't spread so far, perhaps he might have been crying. Still, the soul was getting nearer to the edge, and soon, no angel would be able to pull Dean Winchester from the darkness that threatened to engulf him.

Distantly, Castiel heard his orders to wait until "the time was right" to raise the Righteous Man.

Looking at Dean Winchester, Castiel decided that right then and there was the right time.

He didn't want to frighten him off, so he gathered his wavelengths and formed his appearance to that of his most compatible vessel on Earth, albeit with his wings showing. Then, he approached the soul.

"Dean Winchester." He intoned, walking closer all the while.

Dean Winchester paused and as he walked forward, Castiel could see a sort of tension rising within him.

He almost didn't catch he blade as Dean Winchester swung his arm to stab him in the chest. Castiel managed to grab it though, and his right hand came forward to clamp onto Dean's left shoulder.

"Put down the blade, Dean Winchester." Castiel looked Dean in the eyes, surprised at how green they still were. The hand within his grasp trembled. "You do not have to torture anyone else."

The soul seemed to be searching for something, and he must have found it, because the blade dropped to the floor.

"Good." With that, Castiel gripped Dean tightly by the shoulder, pushing back and eliminating the demonic taint. He curled around the soul, and the soul responded by reverting from a humanoid appearance into its base form.

Castiel hadn't felt so invigorated and empowered in years. At that moment, he knew that he would let nothing harm this soul. He no longer felt his injuries as he spread his wings wide.

A message spread throughout all of Hell. Back off. This soul is mine. It was not necessarily loud or forceful, but there was a resolve behind it that had every demon who heard it shiver.

Castiel flew up through the terrain of Hell. Demons continued to attack him, not wanting to lose such a prize. Castiel fought them all off, new injuries not even registering, and he didn't slow down for a single one. He gripped the soul tighter and held it close.

And slowly, hesitantly, the soul gripped him back.

This was the start of something, Castiel knew. Something was forming between he and this soul, a bond of sorts, but it was just a beginning, just a start. Only time would tell what would become of the two of them, what they would be.

Something in Castiel felt a tiny thrill at the thought of being tied to such a beautiful soul.

Castiel could not tell how much time had passed when he finally broke through the dimension of Hell into the borderland. It was like taking a breath after almost drowning.

The darkness was gone, the flames were gone, the smell of death, blood, and fear were gone. If Castiel had been human, he thought he might have wept from sheer relief.

He caught a glimpse of shocked faces, Balthazar reaching out to him, before his injuries finally caught up to him and he collapsed, still curled around the soul protectively.

A different kind of darkness overtook him.

"Cassie, Cassie, wake up already." A voice was calling for him from afar. It was using that nickname that he hated. "Bloody hell, hurry up and open your eyes."

Castiel grunted and opened his eyes to see the gentle light of Heaven surrounding him.

"About bloody time." Balthazar's face appeared overhead.

"Balthazar." His mind was still fuzzy as he tried to remember what had happened. "What…" He sat up abruptly, memories rushing back. After a quick check, he found the soul still cupped in his hand and cradled to his chest. He felt slightly confused, as he was sure that Seraphs or an Archangel should have taken the soul from him already.

A quiet chuckle came from beside him. "You did it, Cassie." There was a slight hint of awe in Balthazar's voice. "You raised him. All by yourself."

"I did." Castiel was just a bit in awe himself. He had actually done it. Still, he was confused. "Wouldn't someone have taken him by now?"

"Normally, yes, but," Balthazar glanced between Castiel and the soul, "you wouldn't let go, no matter what, and when it looked like they were going to hurt you," he nodded at the Righteous Man, "this little guy didn't like it."

Castiel blinked. "I see." Once more, he stared at the soul in wonder.

"You're being given some recovery time, but then they expect you to finish raising his body." Balthazar clapped him on the shoulder. His voice lowered as he leaned in. "And you're going to have some explaining to do. Most are fine with what you've done, but the higher ups seem to be upset that you didn't follow orders to the letter."

Castiel gave a slight nod as Balthazar departed. He had been expecting that. Looking at the soul in his hands, he couldn't help but think that it was worth it though.

The Righteous Man's decaying body was not as impressive as his soul. Still, he repaired it and left it unblemished, erasing all signs of the hard life the Righteous Man had been forced to endure. When it was not decaying, it actually did not seem all that bad, but Castiel was not the authority on human standards of beauty.

Castiel brought the soul gently down, intending to place it back in his body. The soul stopped him, and spoke for the first time.

"What is your name?" The soul whispered.

Castiel blinked, surprised. "My name is Castiel."

"Will I see you again?" The soul hesitated to say this, but the message came across.

"Do you wish to see me again?" Castiel asked, curious as to why it would ask.

The soul didn't respond, but Castiel could sense its answer.

"Yes." Castiel said, and he could feel the relief coming off of the soul. Finally, the soul allowed him to let go. To Castiel's surprise, as the soul settled into the body, a hand print burned its way onto his flesh where Castiel had gripped the soul in Hell.

Interesting.

Still, Castiel leaned down and breathed life back into Dean Winchester.

As he stood back and watched the man break through the earth on top of his grave, Castiel raised his voice in a message to all.

Dean Winchester is saved.

AN: So this is probably the longest part of the fic. After all, this one had to cover 40 years of battle and pre- and post-Hell stuff. This is basically my headcanons of what went on when Cas journeyed through Hell. I hope you have enjoyed this. Personally, I like the thought of Dean almost stabbing Cas when they met in Hell as well. It would make things consistent between them. I've got a chapter for Sam, coming up next.