A Dark Path

Untitled Part 14

Castiel was strung up on a spiked rack, raised above hell fire, as different blades cut into him from different angles. The smoke that filled the torture dungeon was poisonous, burning his throat every time he tried to breathe in, gasping for air through the constant pain. Sharp blades mixed with dull, jagged knives were scraping off skin little by little, while there were other areas on his body where there daggers and swords were readily plunged into his body.

He could feel himself screaming for help, crying out for anyone who might be able to hear his pleas and save him from this torture. In response, the demons that had circled around to watch the display of a strong warrior crumble and break, laughed cruelly. 

Then the scenery changed and Cas was no longer the one being tortured, but was the one doing the torturing. With an oily whisper in his ear, he picked up the blade and sliced through the soul that had been placed before him. The screams of the soul echoed throughout his own mind and heart, but he refused to let it affect him in any way. Instead, he forced himself to smile at the other's pain and chuckle at their misfortune for being sent to his rack rather than that of a softer demon. Still, through the dark pretenses, his own soul cried out, in so much more pain than even when he himself was being abused.

"You're a natural," he could hear the slick voice behind him whisper in his ear, lips ghosting his earlobes. "Born to be a demon."

'No', he wanted to deny, but there was no fight in him left to say such things, and he simply picked up another blade to start the session up again. 

"You belong here. Belong to the depths of Hell, and the denizens of Lucifer."

His soul blared with pain, but he still said nothing against the demon's statements. 

A hand touched his shoulder, a soft touch, but it was too much for Cas. He reared up, gathering his strength....

"Cas," the owner of the hand that had reached out to him hissed. The husky sound made him pause, and his mind began to work its way through the haze. "Cas, wake up." 

"I am not asleep," Cas tried his best to inform, trying to keep the truth from appearing on his face. His blue eyes were open now, and he could clearly see that he was in the motel room with Dean kneeling before him and Sam on the bed, snoring. There was no sign of Hell anywhere, except on Dean's arm. 

"Sure you weren't." Dean rolled his eyes and pushed himself into a standing position. The hunter reached out his hand again, this time motioning for the angel to take a hold of it so he may be aided in standing as well. Cas tilted his head to the side, unsure of the silent request. Tired, Dean explained, "I don't want to wake up Sam. Let's just go for a walk, huh?"

"Of course Dean." I took his hand, though I didn't truly need it to pull myself up. When he went to retrieve his shoes and then headed out, I followed shortly behind. As he walked ahead of me, he kept quiet, seeming to be in deep thought, but he didn't appear to be in pain or to be angry, so that was a plus. "Is everything alright?" I asked once he stopped near a bench of a nearby park, the fluorescent lights providing a golden sight of an empty environment. 

Dean scoffed at the question. "Am I alright?" Green eyes turned to stare at me incredulously. "What about you?"

"I am fine."

"You were sleeping." His eyes were too stern for the angel's liking. "And not only that, but you were having a nightmare." For a moment, his expression softened. "What's going on, Cas?"

I took a moment to look out at the park. I remember there was a park much like this on one of the first cases Dean had been assigned to as the Righteous Man. He had just failed to keep the Seal intact, but had successfully rescued those that lived in the town. Knowing the cost of what had occurred, he had tried to take comfort in the fact that the kids playing on the swing set were able to do so because of the choices he and Sam had made. Castiel had admired that goodness in him back then, for it was something that the angels seemed to lack. It was the compassion for the small things, rather than only paying attention to the bigger picture. 

"Cas?"

"I was having visions of Hell," he informed the hunter as casually as possible. Though it was unsettling to realize that he had indeed seemed to be having nightmares, he didn't want to alert Dean that something else was wrong. The hunter had too many things to worry about, too many burdens on his shoulder. 

Despite the casualness of Cas' tone, Dean's brows furrowed. "Of when you saved me?"

"No," Cas admitted. Upon seeing Dean's silent request for a further explanation, he told him the full truth. "I believe I was seeing Hell through your eyes, from when you were there."

The crease in the hunter's forehead increased, and the concern deepened in his emerald eyes. For a time they just stared at one another, and Cas was again reminded of the time they spent in that other park so many years ago. Back when Cas could tell that Dean was struggling with the his choices, trying to convince himself that he had been in the right. When Castiel had decided that it was about time he open up, that he share his own struggles with this brave and righteous human being. 

Green eyes finally lowered. "I didn't have any nightmares."

Castiel had suspected as such. He would have been angry at himself, ashamed most likely, if he had learned to find that the hunter had suffered through another nightmare. As soon as Sam had fallen asleep, Cas had reached out with his grace to shield the hunter as he used to do at times during the apocalypse, shielding his mind from the horrors that he had suffered through. 

"Cas?"

"I was keeping them away from you," the angel explained. He had done it enough times before that Dean knew how the process went. 

Dean frowned. "And took them upon yourself?"

"That seems to have been the consequence."

"How? That's never happened before has it?" Cas tried not to react against the building anger of the hunter, telling himself that it wasn't him that the hunter was angry at, but rather the situation. Dean was angry that Cas had put Dean's pain on himself. "Is it because of the borrowed grace?"

"Possibly. It's fine."

"It's not fine."

"Dean..."

"No." The hunter was furious, and Cas could see the Mark of Cain redden at the flare of rage that coursed through his veins. "You can't do this Cas. You can't put yourself through this just for me." Fists tightened. "This is bad enough as it is. I wouldn't be able to keep fighting it if I knew how much it costs you to help me as much as you usually do."

Cas frowned at the thought. "But then what do I do?"

A sad smile, a pathetic thin twist of chapped lips. "Just stay," it was whispered, unheard of if Cas hadn't been an angel. It seemed it was only during the hours of night that such words could be spoken. "That's enough."

Cas brought a hand up to Dean's shoulder, placed where his own mark used to be burned on Dean's skin. "I will stay. I promise."