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Angels and Demons	By : Kuragari75 Category: Supernatural > Slash - Male/Male Views: 8308 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of the characters and I do not make any money from this!

Chapter List
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Castiel would never know what had possessed him to do it. It was unlike anything he had ever done, or would do again after the tongue lashing he had received from his brothers. He was one of the youngest, and they always expected him to just nod and fall in line. One step in any direction reflecting free-will and he was ridiculed.
Raphael and Uriel had torn into him, questioning his loyalty to them, his sanity, even his merit as a commander, all because of one action. Gabriel, his eldest brother, had been absent from the argument, probably laughing at him from some secluded corner of the royal palace while he stuffed his face with chocolate and pastries.
Michael and Lucifer were staring at him, some silent conversation going on between the two. That made Castiel more nervous than if they had a violent reaction. Silence between the Tandem rulers often ended with someone dead.
By all rights, Gabriel should have been ruling the Seraphim legions, but he had stepped down, claiming he would only observe and report to their Father; leaving Michael in command, Lucifer on his right hand as second.
Michael was young, very young… at least in appearance. Something about him dictated that he seemed to age backwards, slowly looking younger and younger as his years stretched into the thousands. His hair was a flaxen gold, his eyes the purest blue, with a strong jaw in a face that couldn’t be more than 20 years by mortal reckoning.
Lucifer, on the other hand, looked older than the rest of them. He was blonde, but with some brown mixed in and his eyes were stormier than those of his older brother. He had some stubble on his face, never appearing clean shaven. Unlike Michael’s golden wings, his own were silver, the feathers looking like daggers glinting in the sunlight.
Castiel watched his other brothers who were also his commanders as they conversed amongst themselves. Raphael was still going on about duty and how Castiel was trying to betray them, Uriel behind him looking severe. The two of them could almost be twins, both tall, dark-skinned, bald, with menacing demeanors and black eyes. Uriel was more heavy set then Raphael, but Raphael was stronger in the long run.
In all honesty, Castiel was no longer listening to them, too busy watching as Michael and Lucifer decided his fate for his apparently outrageous behavior; their heads close together in quiet contemplation.
Well… it was outrageous. Damn near insane actually. He flared his midnight blue wings in self-irritation.
Why had he done this?
“Castiel,” Michael said, instantly stilling Raphael and Uriel. The smaller brunette swallowed hard and looked up into this brother’s ice-blue eyes.
“Yes, sir?”
“We will discuss matters in private and recall you in an hour. Until then you are dismissed.”
“Yes, sir,” Castiel accepted, taking his leave and walking from the large chamber, Raphael and Uriel‘s gazes burning into his back the entire way.
He had an hour, an hour that he planned to spend in prayer. Really, what had he been thinking?
He had in truth acted against his brothers; disobeying a law that they had put in place. He couldn’t even say what had made him do it.
The day had started with a routine inspection of the newly established Empire’s most notorious prison known as the Perdition Block. It was the highest security prison in all the Empire, housing the most dangerous enemies of the Seraphim Rule. It was also where high level prisoners were taken to be tortured.
That fact had never sat well with Castiel which was, he suspected, Raphael’s main motivation for making him do the inspections. To say he and Raphael never really got along was putting it mildly. All the soldiers in Castiel’s legion referred to the Perdition Block simply as ‘Hell’ and in his opinion, they weren’t far off.
Some of the things he saw down there were enough to give him nightmares in the rare hours he felt the need to sleep. He did his best to ignore the conditions in the prison, following the warden around and mostly just nodding. Castiel wasn’t given any power over how the prison was run; those decisions were left for Lucifer and his twisted followers known as demons. There wasn’t much point to his inspections other than making sure the prisoners were all contained.
He was still required to do a walkthrough of the entire block every other month. It was during the latest one that he came across the boy.
He was being lead through the deepest level of the block by the warden, a particularly nasty demon by the name of Lilith. Castiel was listening only partly to the gleeful sadist as they walked between the putrid cells, the commander doing his best to avoid looking at the condemned souls in their filthy confines.
They had moved to the torture chambers and Castiel found himself breathing a sigh of relief. His inspection was nearly over and he could go back to commanding his legion.
“Commander?” He looked over to find Lilith’s disturbing, child-like gaze looking at him expectantly. He was certain that at one time, she had been a perfectly innocent youth, but not once Lucifer had converted her.
“My apologies, I have pressing matters on my mind.” Which was a lie and they both knew it. Lilith just giggled in her odd way and continued on.
“As I was saying, while I’ve got you down here there’s a prisoner I would like you to take a look at,” the tittering demon continued. Castiel’s brow furrowed.
“Alastair having trouble?” he asked skeptically. Lilith’s smile fell into more of a snarl.
“Hasn’t even managed to get the flea’s name,” she growled. Castiel’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. No one lasted against the ministrations of Alastair, Lucifer’s best interrogator.
“How long has the prisoner been under his hand?”
“Three months and 16 days,” Lilith sneered before regaining her mad grin. “But surely, a Seraph of your caliber can get far greater results.”
“Who is the prisoner?” Castiel was genuinely curious now.
“Some runt captured off of the resistance. He was caught leading a group of rebels trying to break into the weapons cache at the Western Strong Point.”
“Why is he being interrogated if he is merely a runt?”
“There are suspicions he has connections high up within the resistance. He was able to take out 6 soldiers before they managed to subdue him,” Lilith said it calmly, but Castiel was impressed despite himself.
“I’d like to meet him,” he said, trying to sound menacing and ready to torture someone.
                Lilith’s smile turned brutal as they continued to the last chamber on the very lowest level. As they approached, Castiel spotted Alastair standing at the ready next to his torture rack, but both he and the prisoner had their eyes closed tightly.
                “We aren’t used to so much light, commander,” Lilith explained, grinning madly at him.
                “My apologies,” Castiel offered. He had forgotten about his natural emission of light and how no one this far down had even glimpsed the sun in a long time. He must seem blinding. He dulled it down until no one was flinching anymore, and immediately felt his gaze drawn to the prisoner.
Castiel was caught in the defiant green eyes glaring at him through the bars of the chamber. The body was emaciated, the skin filthy and hued with sickness and he could barely discern where the blood ended and the dirt began.
But those eyes… they seared him with their pride and strength. The boy, a man by mortal reckoning, was challenging him with that glare. ‘Try it, just try to break me!’ that look said.
Castiel tilted his head in surprise. He stepped into the cell taking a closer look at the hardened face, green eyes tracking his movements.
“Leave us,” Castiel ordered the two demons in the chamber. Lilith and Alastair hesitated.
“Commander wouldn’t you…”
“Now!” Castiel growled, glaring at Lilith. The child-like demon grit her teeth but left, Alastair grinning smugly as he followed.
Once they were alone, Castiel turned his gaze back to the wary human, his head tilted and eyes lit with curiosity
“They’ve given me the impression that you’re a very dangerous mortal,” he started, trying to gauge any reaction in those green depths.

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Dean didn’t know how long he had been in the awful place. Months? Years? Decades? There was no sunlight in this place, no breezes carrying the scent of the season, nothing to mark the passage of time.
Just the pain of torture.
Alastair the demon was very good at his job. Dean didn’t even know what he had done wrong anymore. At the end of each session he would be healed and fed just enough to keep him alive. Then it would start all over again; the cutting, the ripping, tearing at him until there was nothing left. Over and over it went on and on, his only other companion being the terrible little girl. He didn’t like the days when that demon came. Those days hurt the worst. Today though, something different happened… today was something new.
Alastair stopped half-way through their session, head snapped up and poised as thought listening. To what, Dean didn’t really care, gasping for breath and trying to steel himself against a renewed onslaught.
“It seems we have visitors,” Alastair said, petting a hand down Dean’s cheek. If he’d had anything in his stomach he would’ve vomited. The demon put down his knives and turned toward the door.
This had never happened before. Dean heard voices approaching and was suddenly curious. One of the voices belonged to tiny girl and Dean felt a chill up his spine. The other voice, though, was one Dean had never heard before. It was deep and scratchy and oddly soothing to the prisoner’s ears.
Light started coming from the hallway, growing steadily in intensity until Dean had to shut his eyes.
“We aren’t used to so much light, commander,” the girl demon was saying.
“My apologies,” the mystery voice said. Dean swore he could feel the light dim and he cautiously opened his eyes.
The man watching him from beyond the bars wasn’t what he had expected. He stood a few inches shorter than Dean, when he was standing anyway, and didn’t look like very intimidating. He had dark brown hair and stubble over his square jaw. If it weren’t for the man’s bright, almost glowing blue eyes Dean never would’ve known he was looking at a Seraphim.
Of course the pair of large black wings sprouting from the man’s back were also a clue to his heritage.
The blue eyes bore into him and Dean glared defiantly back. So they brought in a new interrogator? Fine, this new douche wouldn’t succeed any more than the other two had. Of course with his defiance also came a glimmer of fear. He really didn’t want to feel what the guy creepy demon-girl had to call for help would do to him.
The Seraphim circled him once before commanding the demons from the room. Dean was temporarily caught off guard. So far both of his interrogators had loved an audience. He watched warily as his tormentors left and those blue eyes turned back to him.
“They’ve given me the impression that you’re a very dangerous mortal,” the man’s voice was calm and strong.
“Did they now,” Dean sneered, trying to look disinterested. The Seraph’s head tilted to the side, reminding Dean of a confused puppy, but his gaze never faltered.
“Indeed. Killing six Seraph soldiers is no easy feat for a single mortal,” he said.
“Yeah, well, I’m feisty,” he snapped, attempting to guess at the man’s game.
‘Blue eyes’ strode forward, looking intently into his eyes. Dean drew back a little, taken off guard by the intense look.
“What’s your name?”
Dean glared at him. Yeah, like it was that easy. To his surprise, the man smiled. Not the cruel and maniacal grin of Alastair and what’s-her-bitch, but an actual, warm smile.
What… the… fuck…?
He was caught so off guard by the soft look and warm smile that when the man asked calmly again he felt himself answering before he could stop himself.
“Please, tell me your name…”
“Dean… my name’s… Dean…”
Blue-eyes backed up a little, allowing Dean to breathe but still within arm’s length.
“Dean,” the man tried the name out, sending an odd thrill up the prisoner’s spine. “I’m Castiel.”
Before Dean could respond, blue-eyes reached up and grabbed his left shoulder, sending a flash of pain through him and he screamed. When it passed, he was completely healed. His bruises were gone, he didn’t feel sick, he wasn’t cut up or torn up, and he wasn’t even hungry anymore. He looked up at the Seraph- Castiel huh? - But blue-eyes was heading out of the cell, calling for Alastair and the little bitch. Dean looked down at his shoulder, still stinging from the man’s touch, to find a raised red handprint left on his skin.
What… the… FUCK?
He glanced up at the voices in the hallway, looking at Castiel’s back from between the bars.
“This mortal is to be taken to my quarters, unharmed. Immediately,” he was saying. Dean blanched a little.
WHAT… THE…FUCK?
“Commander, you don’t have the authority to remove a prisoner from the block,” bitch-demon said, still grinning.
“This matter is for my brother and I shall take it to him at once. In the mean time, do as I say!”
“Commander, I can’t just…”
“NOW! Or do I have to inform My Lord Lucifer of your insolence?”
There was a distinct silence and Dean shivered. He had only ever heard rumors of the infamous Seraph Prince, but they were enough to terrify him.
“No, sir. Of course I shall take the prisoner myself, right away.”
And so, Dean found himself being pulled from hell, uncertain of what lay before him and hoping he hadn’t just been sentenced to a worse fate.

Kuragari: realized I didn't really give anyone much to go on in the prologue so here's the real main focus of the story. It's a Destiel fic with a few other pairings thrown in. I hope to take it far and am working on the next chapter! let me know if it's worth continuing. :)
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Angels and Demons