Hell was hot… Boiling. A garrison of thirty-two entered Hell, clad in golden plated armour with various individual colors to help identify them. Their wings glittered and gave off light to help them see their way through Hell’s fires and chains and blood. Each had taken a vessel prior to this task, as to not leave their true forms vulnerable, but every demon in Hell knew what they were and screamed at the sight.
Angels, all led by Michael. Six wings sprouted from the Archangel’s back, a vivid white that faded to gentle indigos at the tips of his primary and secondary feathers. Every individual bard was hardened, making each feather sleek and effective at killing anything that came too near, and it was helpful- Lucifer had most of his army defending their target.
Castiel was a simple foot soldier, led by Anna, but was known for his abilities in combat and his talent for strategy. His armour shone like polished gold, veins of sapphire blue running down the contours and detailing of the armour. His vessel was that of a dark haired man, with eyes that were as vivid as the veins on his armour. Jimmy Novak was his name. The man currently resided safe in a cushioned corner of his mind, safe from the horrors of hell.
Slicing cleanly through the neck of a demon, Castiel fought towards his mission. The Righteous Man must be saved. He was the intended vessel for Michael, but Castiel knew he needed to find him. Michael could not take him if Alastair managed to destroy him first.
The fighting was a blur. His midnight black wings sliced through demon upon demon. Anna’s deep red wings, Azareal’s soft browns, Temeluchus’s fiery reds and golds, they filled his memory as they helped him, but all were stopped at some point, stuck in combat while Castiel fought onwards. He needed to get to The Righteous Man, time was running short.
He followed the beacon-like light coming from the bottom of the pit. It shone so bright and vivid it nearly blinded him. The Righteous Man’s soul was what led him on. It was broken, damaged and failing, but Castiel was stunned by it’s beauty. He found him, in the midst of torturing another human soul. Michael’s voice reached his ears, telling him to stop, but Castiel did not listen.
The Righteous Man was vicious and broken, but Castiel was not put off. He grasped his shoulder, spreading his wings wide as demons frantically rushed over. There was no time to wait for Michael, and Castiel had no interest in waiting. Giving a few hard flaps, he pulled and pulled, raising Dean’s soul out of the Pit, leaving his garrison and a furious Michael behind.
Dean was dying, his body was torn to bits. Cradling the soul close to his chest, Castiel grasped the vessel, putting all his strength into healing the hunter. Once the vessel was fixed, he pulled the soul away from his chest, shocked when he felt something in him just… leave.
The soul cradled a piece of grace, tiny, but still a piece of his grace. He would allow Dean to keep it, and chose not to heal the brand on his arm. Michael would surely be furious, but Castiel didn’t care. Placing Dean’s soul back in his body, he felt a wavelength of power emanate, obliterating everything in a forty foot radius, the trees around the site, anything that may harm him. With that, he flew away, back to Heaven, staring through his window, watching and waiting.
It was time for The Righteous Man to awaken.