Title: Angel of Darkness

Author: Nerdyspeedstergirl

Summary: Castiel fell from heaven as a young fledgling, too young to remember the paradise, but also too young to take care of himself. He was taken in by Crowley and raised as the Prince of hell. The Angel of darkness. Now as a grown angel, it's time for him to spread his wings and help jump start the war of all wars. But everything doesn't go exactly as planned. Destiel.

Authors Note: Not an original idea, the plots all mine but the idea actually came from a post on tumblr. I saw it and was reading destiel and this happened. XD

Angel of Darkness

Chapter one: Savior

Castiel looked at the screaming human, and with a slightly annoyed look and a tilt of his head ended her sounds and carefully avoided the blood. The Prince of hell let out an irritated sigh, knowing that since this was eternal torture she'd wake up soon enough. And then he'd have to hear her shrill voice begging for mercy again.

Pathetic. Couldn't she just accept her fate like most of the mortals here had? She had earned her time here—there was no 'mistake' as some of them insisted. If you're here it's because you either were an awful human being or you sold your soul—either way you're stuck and no begging and screaming would suddenly change anyone's mind. They'd heard it all before.

The raven-haired angel let out a sigh of relief when Crowley entered the room a minute later, maybe he would be able to get out of here before that woman regained consciousness. "What took you so long, Father?"

"Sorry, got caught up talking to an old friend." Is all the King offered, his eyes gleaming with mirth. He was obviously keeping a secret from Castiel, but the younger let it slide. If Crowley had wanted him to know he'd tell him, plus it wasn't really his place to ask, son or not he wasn't as close to Crowley as he could be. Or as trusted—as he had yet to prove himself in battle.

"What did you want to talk about?" He asked in his gruff voice, never being one for idle chat. What was the point in talking if you didn't get right to the purpose?

"The Winchesters."

Castiel raised an eyebrow, he'd never once been allowed see the Winchesters—he even had to have escorts when he was at Earth so he wouldn't 'stray' and see them. He'd been confined to one part of hell ever since the oldest Winchester had sold his soul and came to hell. He assumed Alistair was the one torturing him, and almost felt pity for the man. Almost. "What about them?"

"Well, you always seemed eager to help with the whole heaven/hell war and I found the perfect way for you too help. It involves a very close encounter with the Dean Winchester."

"I don't understand."

Crowley let out a sigh "You will 'save' Dean from hell. You will put seeds of doubt against his brother by only using the truth—stretching it just a little bit. You will gain his trust, you will become his friend. And when he trusts you completely—well, you get the picture."

Castiel simply nodded "As you wish Father." He takes one look at the woman who was beginning to stir and scowled, leaving in a quick rush of flapping wings and heading off to save the Winchester boy from his torment.

Dean didn't know how long he had been here. It felt like years and years, at least a hundred. Maybe more. He'd stopped caring a while ago, had broke after thirty years and for the last seventy had...

He shook his head and bit down on his lip, even though he was helping Alistair torture the poor souls he wasn't completely off the hook. Sometimes other demons and monsters would come down and decide they wanted to get some revenge for their fallen friends by taking it out on the elder Winchester.

He didn't know how much more he could take. He was strung out and on the edge of insanity, if he was down here for much longer...

Who was he kidding, he'd be down here for the rest of eternity. It was a price he was willing to pay to save his baby brother, that was his job after all, but Dean had thought Sam would've found a way to pull him out of hell by now and they'd be back to normal. Dean and Sam fighting demons and the like while they were in a raunchy hotel room, eating take out and pie and drinking beer. Normal stuff, stuff he'd taken for granted...

The green-eyed man looked around, shocked to be alone for once. An eery silence had fallen over his own little corner of hell and he was positive that that couldn't be a good thing.

Right when the hunter assessed everything as okay as long as he could get the hell out of there, he felt a searing pain on his upper left arm and struggled to look up, only to be snapped at by a gravelly voice to shut his eyes. The pain was so intense and he had a feeling of being strapped to a freaking train, his already spent body couldn't handle this and the young man passed out.

...Only to wake up what felt like seconds later in a dark enclosure, wood surrounding him on all sides. This had to be a dream. But he'd never hurt so much in a dream before, and none of his dreams had been close enough to being this vivid. "Fuck..." Dean whispered hoarsely, struggling to get out of the confined space. He was starting to panic when he realized he was too weak to claw himself out, years of hell had wore him down. "Sammy!" He managed a small scream, pounding on the top of the coffin. "Anybody!?"

He screamed until his voice gave out and he literally couldn't anymore, not giving a rats ass about acting like a bitch. Dean pounded on the top of the coffin and kicked at it until his knuckles bled and there was no chance of escaping at all.

He was going to die again, alone in a coffin, and be sent right back to hell.

No, he couldn't go back. He wouldn't go back.

After what felt like hours but could have easily been minutes, he felt the lid to the coffin being pried away, and he forced himself to scoot back from the light, looking up at the face of a man. He had shining blue eyes and ink-black hair, a comforting and reassuring smile covered his face and despite his dark look it did work to calm the hunter. The stranger managed to pick Dean up and out of the coffin with one hand, Dean didn't even notice his repressed look of disgust.

"Dean Winchester, all is well. You are safe. Now sleep, you are exhausted and in no way able to understand my explanations."

Even though it was completely dangerous considering he didn't know this man, he felt himself growing tired. Dean fought it off long enough to ask a question, even as his eyes closed just in time for him to miss the mans amused grin. "Who...who're you?"

"I am the Angel of darkness, but you may refer to me as Castiel."