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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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Blood covered the cement floor of the bunker. It was cold, damp and dim with only the single bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling for light, further adding to the discomfort of the room. Not that John Winchester would ever admit to discomfort, just like the creature trussed up before him. It was hard to imagine that the black-eyed monster chained to a chair and trapped in the intricately painted circle had ever been human.
The circle had been a lucky find from an old text on demons. It was referred to as a ‘Devil’s Trap’ and seemed to be the only real way to immobilize the sadistic bastards.
Modern warfare had proved useless time and time again, so the hunter’s had turned to older remedies. Salt, holy water and iron seemed to be the most effective against the demon slaves of the Seraphim legion. Of course they had yet to find anything to use against the damn ‘Angels’ themselves.
That was actually one of John’s jobs in their odd little community. It had fallen to the graying, grizzled hunter, as well as a few others, to torture any information he could from the demons they managed to take alive about anything they could use against the Legion. So far, it hadn’t been working too well. All he managed to get out of demon after demon was information the hunters already knew.
Locations of floating citadels, prisons, war camps; they already had all of that. The Legion didn’t seem too concerned with concealing their whereabouts; most likely because they knew the hunters weren’t really much of a threat at all.
Today however, John had some very specific information he needed from his current prisoner and he would torture a thousand demons until he got what he needed.
Lazily drawing a hand through his graying brown hair, he picked up his knife and dipped it in the jug of salt-holy water beside him on the table he perched on.
“Do we really need to go over this again?” he asked his voice gravely and deep as he stared down the black-eyed bastard. “I need to know more about the prison’s defenses.”
The demon just grinned in response, inciting John’s rage.
“Here,” he said, calmly standing. “Hold this for me would you?”
With that, he plunged the knife deep into the demon’s leg. The creature howled as the water and salt burned into his flesh. John gave the knife a good twist just for the satisfaction of it. The demon continued screaming as he poured himself a drink from a bottle on the table. The homemade liquor tasted like piss, but it had the burn he needed to stay focused.
Three months ago, his oldest son Dean had been captured during a raid on a Legion camp. It had taken him and his good friend Bobby Singer the better part of those three months to find out where he was being held, but they had found out. His youngest son, Sam, had wanted to charge in there the second they had the location, but John knew better. He wanted nothing more than to get his son back, but Seraph prisons were nearly impossible to break into, and even harder to get back out of. If they charged in there half-cocked they would all end up dead, captured, or converted and then who would help Dean?
John was gathering as much information as he could about the ‘Hell Gate Prison’, as the hunters called it, so that he would actually be able to help his son and maybe even pull him out of there in one piece. That is, if his son was even still alive.
John banished that thought with another shot of ‘hunter’s helper’. He couldn’t afford to think that way. He had to stay focused on getting in and out of that prison. He turned back to his captive, ready to continue, when someone came charging down the cellar stairs.
He looked up to see Bobby’s familiar bearded face that was drawn into a deep frown.
“What is it?” he asked quickly, eager to continue his questioning.
“You’re Idjit of a son, that’s what!” Bobby growled, pulling at the bill of his trucker hat like he always did when worried. Bobby wasn’t much to look at really, a grizzled aging man in plaid and jeans, but he was one of the best hunters John had ever known. “He skipped out of camp no more than an hour ago. Give ya three guesses as to where he’s headed.”
John swore explosively and grabbed his jacket.
“Take care of this piece of shit would you, Bobby?” he said over his shoulder as he ran up the stairs and out to his truck, the demon’s screams drifting from behind him. As he fired up the engine, he only had one thought in mind:
He was going to beat the shit out of Sam.
---
Sam Winchester watched the Seraphim patrol as they flew by overhead. That made seven passes since he started watching which made one pass over every twenty minutes by at least two different patrols. He could see four guard towers on the South wall, each spaced 15 feet apart and with at least two guards per tier. He couldn’t see any weapons on them but of course, with demons, that really didn’t mean anything. There was really only one blind spot along the brightly lit perimeter but it would take him within two feet of the farthest tower, the wall running from it straight into a cliff face. Also, Sam knew from watching other failed raids on high security prisons, there were traps set up all along the top of the granite walls to dissuade anyone from scaling them.
The wall he had been scouting for at least two hours was part of the perimeter of the infamous ‘Hell Gate Prison’ and it was probably the most heavily guarded prison the ‘false angels’ possessed. From what he and other Hunters had been able to gather about it, the South wall was the weakest of all the defenses, but that honestly was not making him feel better. He had tracking devices for some of the elaborate traps and enough holy water and salt to sink a small ship, along with his sawed-off shotgun and his Dad’s favorite ‘hunting’ knife made of salted iron.
It was going to be tricky, not to mention the most reckless and dangerous thing he had ever done, and he honestly had no idea what he would be facing once he got inside, but he had no choice. Dean was somewhere in that fortress and he had to try.
Just over three months, that’s how long it had fucking taken them to track his older brother down. Not that it had been for lack of trying. His Dad and Uncle Bobby had been ripping into every single demon they had been able to get their hands on, and it had still taken them three months to get answers from one. Turned out those damned demons were surprisingly loyal to their corrupters. The last demon had only told them what prison he was in because it believed that they would never get in (and if they did that they would be killed.). Of course that demon was a nice corpse now so his opinion didn’t have much weight with Sam.
It had been a week since they buried that creature and Sam’s dad had refused to do a goddamned thing about it. He kept saying they needed to know more about the prison before trying to save Dean but for all they knew his brother may already be dead. He just couldn’t wait any longer.
The aerial patrol flew over again, giving Sam twenty minutes to take out those demons, traverse the traps on the wall, and land in ‘God-knew-what’ on the other side. He took a few deep breaths and lunged… only to be yanked backwards by the seat of his pants to land flat on his back, looking up at the very sullen features of John Winchester.
And his father did not look happy with him.
“Hey there, son,” he growled, pulling Sam to his feet and quickly moving them back into the trees. They moved swiftly, John practically hauling his taller son by the back of his shirt until they were a safe distance away. Sam pulled himself angrily from his father’s grip.
“What the hell are you doing!?” he hissed, not willing to yell still so close to Seraph territory.
“Saving your sorry ass, apparently,” John answered, charging off down a dirt trail.
“I need to get my car,” Sam called out, his car still parked several yards down the road.
“I’ll send someone for it later.”
Sam watched his father continue to stomp away, and sighed heavily before fallowing. He could make a break back to the wall but at this point it was useless. His father would just barge in and ruin his plans again.
“I had everything under control, Dad,” Sam spat at his father’s back, flinching when the shorter man spun to face him.
“No, Sam. You didn’t. Now shut your trap and get your rear in the truck or do I have to knock you out and drag your sorry carcass all the way back to camp!” John didn’t raise his voice as he stared his son down, he didn’t have to. Soon the younger man lowered his gaze and lumbered off to his dad’s vehicle. The elder Winchester gave the other a good shove as he climbed into the waiting black truck.
The drive back to camp was tense and silent as both Winchesters refused to look at one another. Sam just stared out the window, wondering about his brother and vowing that no matter what it took, he would get Dean back.
---
Dean sat on the wooden dock, a cold beer in his hand as he looked out over the water of the lake. He took a long drink, just enjoying it and the sunlight streaming down on his face as he thought about absolutely nothing. He felt so peaceful. But there was a lingering thought in the back of his mind that he was forgetting something, something important and extremely dangerous.
Just then, a shadow passed over him, blocking the sun for a moment and startling him. He looked up to see a dark shape circling in the sky, wings spread wide and back to the sun. It was too large to be a bird and Dean was able to make out the body of a man in the lake’s reflection.
That’s when he remembered. He blinked, and found himself in Hell.
He was surrounded by piles of torn flesh, some of it his own, and the smell of putrid bodies and over cooked meat seared his nostrils. There was deafening screaming all around him that fell somewhere between human cries of agony and the death throes of some beast. Dean was choking on the stench and looked down to see that he was standing in blood up to his knees and it was rising. It seemed to take an instant to cover him up to his neck and soon he was drowning in the thick, red liquid.
He struggled but he couldn’t find the air again as the blood invaded his throat and coated his lungs. He tried to scream but all it did was pull more and more of it into his body, suffocating him. Just when he was out of air, the red was parted by a brilliant white light. He flinched, shutting his eyes, but he could breathe again and the air was crisp and clean. The light washed over and through him, calming him, embracing him, whispering that he was safe, that it would be ok. He felt the vague impression of a hand on his left shoulder, and when he opened his eyes he found the most amazingly blue eyes looking back at him. He couldn’t name the gaze in those eyes but it filled him with joy and terror at the same time. His body was relaxed while his mind began to panic, wanting to pull away from those eyes and what he saw there. When he started to move away, the hand tightened on him and the eyes became frightened. Urgency entered the voice, telling him not to be afraid. But Dean couldn’t look into that intense gaze any longer, and he turned away, coming face to face with a disturbing, black figure. Of the distorted face he could only make out one thing.
The bright yellow eyes that glinted like metal before the creature lunged for him.

Dean woke with a shout, jerking upright and nearly pitching off the patio chair he had been napping on. He was breathing heavily as he looked around, trying to remember where he was. He looked down and found himself in a pair of torn to hell jeans and no shirt whatsoever. His brow furrowed in confusion as he tried to clear the haze out of his tired mind.
There was a rustle behind him and Dean jumped up, ready to defend himself. A dark-haired man with bright blue eyes watched him warily from a doorway. Dean could see massive wings sprouting from his back and it all rushed back to him. He had been pulled from his prison cell and was now in this Seraph’s room. What was his name again? Cas-Castiel or something?
“Are you all right?” the brunette asked staying in the doorway. Dean took a deep breath and laughed humorlessly, resisting the urge to cover his bare chest and show a sign of feeling vulnerable.
“No,” he spat. Looking up at the grand spires of the floating fortress he shuddered.
"You are uneasy?" the angel asked, and Dean rolled his eyes.
“Now why would I possibly be feeling uneasy?” he spat sarcastically.
“You have experienced great trauma and are now trying to come to grips with the current situation,” the man answered without missing a beat and in a completely serious voice.
Dean blinked at him, unsure how to respond to such a deadpanned answer, and just shook his head. Apparently, the Seraph didn't speak smart-ass.
“Who are you? And where am I?” He asked instead. The Seraph gave him that ‘confused puppy’ look Dean had seen in the prison. He just hardened his glare in response. Sure he thought he remembered the angel's name, but he couldn't be certain.
“I am Castiel. You are currently in my chambers,” was Castiel’s answer.
“I gathered that, genius! I mean,” here he gestured widely to the city just visible around the balcony. “Where are we?”
“The citadel of Eden, our capitol,” was his answer.
Well, fuck. This was just great! He was in the goddamned capitol city! That meant there was no chance of his family finding him and escape would be next to impossible… if it was possible at all.
His dad had said something about this city being the only one that moved continuously and had some sort of device that made it invisible from the ground.
Now he knew why there was a shield around the balcony. It would’ve honestly been his best option.
“Why did you bring me here?” he demanded furiously but only got another confused tilt of the head. “What do you want from me?”
“I would’ve thought you would welcome the change,” Castiel said calmly, seemingly un-phased by Dean’s anger which only served to piss him off more.
“The only change I’d welcome is to go home!” he shouted.
“I’m afraid it is not in my power to fulfill that request.”
“So what am I doing here?” Dean demanded again, the brunette‘s stone-faced responses unnerving him.
There was something hauntingly familiar about those blue eyes, and yet they were so alien to him. The Seraph stared at him so intensely and for so long that he had to look away.
“I was…” the ‘angel’ started. “…compelled… to save you from your torment.”
Green eyes looked back up in confusion. Huh?
“ ‘Compelled’?”
“I am uncertain how else to describe it. I saw you and felt that… you are a soul worth saving,” he said calmly, the matter of fact tone taking Dean off guard.
Castiel turned and headed back into his living room, his wings catching the light as he moved. The blonde realized that the feathers he originally thought were black, were actually a deep, midnight blue.
The same color as his bed.
The hunter shook the thought from his head and moved to the door, watching the Seraph cautiously.
“There may be some people here who would disagree with that,” he said, hanging back, unwilling to re-enter the living space.
“They have little choice in the matter. What’s done is done.”
Dean did not like the sound of that and the reluctance in the other man's voice was setting off warning bells.
“What does that mean? What exactly 'is done'?” he demanded. That blue stare turned back to him and Dean had to resist the urge to run away. It both excited and terrified him. What the hell was with him and this guy's eyes? He was surprised to find some emotion in them that, if he were looking at a human, he would've labeled as dread. His own eyes hardened.
"What did you do?"
Castiel approached him slowly and raised his right hand as if to place it on Dean's shoulder, but seeing the blonde hide a flinch at the movement he lowered his arm again. He tilted his head towards Dean's left shoulder and the hunter looked down to find a red, raised hand print on his skin. He vaguely remembered seeing it after Castiel touched him in the torture chamber, but there had been a lot of pain involved and the memories were a little blurry. He closed his eyes hard, blinking to clear them, but the hand print was still seared into his shoulder. He looked back up at the brunette angel, fear and confusion written on his face. Castiel looked uncertain for a moment before he spoke.
"I gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition."

kuragari: ok, I know it doesn't completely work in the same context but I wanted to use that line because it's one of my favorites and one of Cas' most well known ones. I will be explaining the soul bond more in the next chapter, but I had a lot written here and wanted to post if for certain people who really want to read it. lol and to prove I'm still working on it. I love this story but, as with all of my fics, I am slow to update due to the fact that I'm a stupid perfectionist and have to read and re-read my chapter several times before I will post anything. and I'm trying to get more length into my chapters. thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed.
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Angels and Demons