CASTIEL

Castiel is rescued from Hell on a Thursday.

Later he thinks there is irony in that. He is named for the angel of Thursday after all.

He breaks through the earth a new man, drawing in air as if he is starved for it. The sunlight is too bright, and everything he touches overloads his senses, but for a moment he lies there, wallowing in the relief that he is free. Hell could never compare to this, as he staggers to his feet, legs unsteady and looks around at the small grave in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere.

The wooden cross is crooked, no name or date on the damp wood. It's slightly charred and rotting already, the only marker to the grave. The pine box itself is only three feet down. It's almost as if it was only a temporary measure, and it must be, because his body should have been salted and burnt, ashes scattered to the four winds.

He blinks, and it's still too bright. Beyond the shallow grave, there is nothing of interest, just dried grass and fallen trees. The trunks are blown outwards, as if knocked over like dominoes. His gaze extends a bit further, head turning, and he can see where the forest starts, a perfect radius around, with him in the centre.

Castiel closes his eyes and tries to remember what happened. Everything is chaotic, the baying of hounds, the tearing of flesh, the feel of the knife and the burn of hell. He can't distinguish events clearly, but he knows that he's out, after however long it's been. He's out and he's free and whatever pulled him out…

He casts a frantic glance around at the fallen trees.

He should get the hell out of there.

Anna really chose the most isolated place to bury him. There's a road, gravel and broken tarmac and he walks along it for what feels like hours, in the heat of the day. He's wearing the clothes he was in before he died, and except for a lighter, some old chewing gum and a small pen knife, he has nothing useful. Not even a few dollars change.

The convenience store is closed and he mutters apologies under his breath as he breaks in. The water soothes his throat, and he briefly reflects about how that is his first drink for possibly forty years. That's when he spies the date on the newspaper and it feels like everything is crumbling, but being built back up. It's only been four months.

Four months...

Somewhere, Anna is still out there.

He is raiding the cash register when the TV statics into life with a buzz. He pauses, staring at it, and switches it off. Seconds later the radio jumps to life.

The air is vibrating now as he grabs the salt, barely having time to throw it at the windows before the glass breaks, a high pitched whining that makes his wince, and clap his hands over his ears, seconds before it stops and he's crouched there, in amongst the broken glass wondering what the hell just happened.

The only clue to how he came to be topside is a hand-print burned into his shoulder (it feels like it's burned into his bones). It's raw, and he tries to soothe it with a damp cloth later, once Bobby's convinced he's not a demon and they're attempting to track Anna's phone. The whole shoulder is radiating heat, and he winces, pressing down gently on the inflamed skin.

"So where is she?" he asks, looking up as Bobby approaches.

The old man is about to reel off an address but he pauses, staring at the hand-print. "Jesus boy… something just up and yanked you out of there, didn't it?"

"We'll find out what," Castiel says. "Just as soon as we find Anna…"

Anna's changed since he last saw her. Her red hair hangs loose and she keeps looking over her shoulder, as if expecting someone to be there. Castiel hasn't seen Brady yet, and hopes the demon is still down in Hell.

"But how did you get out?" she whispers, clinging tightly to him.

It's the question everyone wants to know and he doesn't know the answer to. He visits a psychic to find out more about the creature that raised him.

Pamela grins, flirting with him and he feels uncomfortable, settling at the table and rolling up his sleeves. She too, whistles at the hand-print, but lays one hand on the inflamed mark.

Her eyes close and Castiel can almost feel the temperature drop, if not for his blazing arm. Pamela's head rolls, as if looking for something. "There you are…" she breathes. "No, no… don't turn away. Let get a look at you. What's your name?" She hums and then stops, frowning at the creature they can't sense. "You're a shy one, aren't you? How about a glimpse then? Just a little… don't be stupid… I'll be fine... Dean huh? Come on then Dean... just a little peek…" she stops talking, throwing back her head with a scream, and Castiel wrenches his hand back as her eyes flare with fire and light.

She never sees again.

"What the hell can burn out someone's eyes?" Bobby asks.

The barn is covered with symbols from every culture and religion and myth when they summon the creature. They don't know what is going to turn up, and so don't know how to prepare. It's as if they want the thing here, but really, really don't at the same time. Something shows anyway, with shaking iron and the flickering of lights. The doors crack open and Castiel braces himself, wondering if he should have got Anna to help him.

The thing looks human.

Most monsters do.

He's tall. Well-built too. And very, very tall.

He stalks forwards, shoulders hunched slightly into himself as he glances around with interest at the symbols on the walls, even though they do nothing. He walks straight through the devil's trap without even blinking.

Castiel shoots him in the chest with his salt filled shotgun. It doesn't do anything and he waves a hand, his shotgun thrown to one side. The being looks slightly annoyed, examining his torn plaid shirt, and that's when Castiel slams the knife into him.

The tall man winces, but pulls it out, casting it a scornful glance and dropping it. Castiel staggers back a few steps in shock. "Who are you?" he gasps out, as the being perches on the edge of the desk, silently watching him. "Dean?"

Bobby lunges and the tall guy clicks his fingers. The older man falls to the floor.

"He's just sleeping," the guys says quietly. "This isn't for him to hear."

Castiel shoots him a look filled with as much emotion as he could.

"My name is Sammael." The guy says, "I'm an angel."

Castiel's mother used to believe in angels before she died. His father too was a religious man. Yet in all his years of hunting down demons, never once had he believed in angels. Anna's real name is Anael. Not that she'll ever let anyone call her that.

"Why did you pull me out of Hell?" it's the one thing he needs to know. Why him?

The guy quirks his lips "I didn't." he says. "You'll have to ask my brother... Dean..." he frowns, an odd look crossing his face. "He's the one who pulled you out."

"Where is he?"

"Busy. He sent me instead to keep an eye on you. Check you don't die on us again."

"Why am I here?"

Sammael looks at him, and Castiel wonders if the guy really is an angel, if angels are real and if this is really happening. "Good things do happen." Castiel wonders what a load of crap that is and as if in response the 'angel' shrugs. "Sometimes at least. Your part to play is up here. You are more use to us up on Earth."

"Use to you? To do what?" Castiel shakes his head.

The angel pauses. "Think of it as a sort of apology," He says eventually, and when Castiel starts towards him in frustration as his cryptic words, there is a flutter of wings and Sammael is gone. Vanished.

According to the lore, Sammael is a fallen angel who served Lucifer. He was the angel of death who killed all the firstborns in Egypt. It doesn't bode well for them.

Seals start to crack and break, as if a domino has been knocked over. Castiel has this nagging suspicion that this was all because of him.

The witnesses are barely settled and they're cleaning up Bobby's room than Castiel walks through to the kitchen to find Sammael lounging there. Bobby who is following him, almost shoots him with rock salt again, but once again the gun is wrenched from his hands.

"Friendly lot aren't they?"

Castiel looks to the side where another guy stands. Short hair and green eyes. "You pulled me out." He says. It isn't a question.

"Told you he was insistent," Sammael smirks.

"So you were right. Nice job Sammy," the taller angel shifts at the nickname, eyes narrowing into a face of annoyance. New angel turns to Castiel and Bobby.

"You're Dean." Castiel states again.

"Observant," the guy... angel grins. "We need you help."

"What kind of a name is Dean?" Bobby scoffs. "Some angel you are."

The pair looks as if they have a private joke between them, sharing a glance. "Nice job with the witnesses."

"Where were you?" Castiel threatened. "Is this one of the sixty-six seals?"

Sam shifts, and for a moment he looks eager, but then it is gone and the grin is just wry, and not happy. "Yes," he says. "The demons are breaking the sixty-six seals. Lilith is orchestrating it."

"What happens when they all break?" Bobby asks the final question.

"Apocalypse," The angel called 'Dean' shrugs. "End of Times." He grins, "Lucifer walks the Earth."

Sammael shifts again, looking almost guilty. "Lucifer was bound in a cage, containing seals. You might think of them like a lock on a door. When they break, he is free." There is a note of wonder in his voice, almost reverent. Dean casts the taller angel a look of amusement.

"What do you want us to do?" Castiel feels hopeless, because surely there are people better suited to this task than he is. "You want my help but what can I do?"

"Look out for your sister," Dean warns. Then they are gone. Castiel knows no more what he has to do now than he did before, but the angel is right. He catches Anna with her hand outstretched, choking a demon. Brady is sneaking around her like a snake whispering in her ears. Castiel sends him away and Anna repents. He wants to be angry but he did this to her, by bringing her back when he found her cold dead body in Cold Oak.

It's his job to protect her... she is his sister...

"Not bad." He doesn't jump when Dean appears behind him. "You've got courage. Nice job with Samhain."

"What do you want?" he grinds out.

"Humans are such curious things," the angel sounds amused.

"I'm glad you find us entertaining," Castiel turns around, and finding the angel too close, steps back. "Dean." He warns.

"Castiel," the angel mocks, surprisingly sassy for a celestial being. "Named for the angel Cassiel. Cassie's nice enough, but she's far too nosy for her own good."

"There really is an angel of Thursday?" he asks.

Dean hums an agreement. "Look after yourself." He says. "Things aren't going to be easy, but we need you to stay strong."

"Why aren't you doing more?" he asks in frustration. "You're angels, aren't you?"

"Don't say things like that," Dean's voice is cold. "Six of my brothers and sisters died this past week."

Castiel snorts. "But you just keep on following orders, like a good little hammer."

"I'm not a tool," the angel growls. "We might not be human, but we have our own thoughts and emotions."

"Thank you," Castiel finally gets to the root of his problem. "For not destroying the town. Even though Uriel wanted to."

Dean shrugs. "That's Uriel for you."

"Where's Sammael?"

The blonde looks shifty. "Around," he says evasively. "Do me a favour and don't mention Sammy to the others, will ya'?"

And Castiel looks to the angel, who is the most un-angelic being he's ever met, who nicknames his brother like a twelve year old, has a penchant for stealing Castiel's pie and making obscure references even he hasn't heard of and seems to have some grand plan for Castiel, that he himself has no clue about.

But this is the being who dragged him out of hell and whose hand-print is burned onto his shoulder. "Okay," he agrees, but when he looks up to green eyes, the angel is gone, leaving him sitting alone, on a park bench.

January 2014 - I wanted my own go at a reverse universe with a twist. So here ya' go.