I Don't Believe |:| Castiel |:|

Chapter One: In and Out of Hell

I stared at the wall of my motel room. I'd left Bobby's soon after we found out there was no way of finding Sam, but I still reminded Bobby I was okay every once in a while. I was, physically, but inside I felt like my heart had been ripped into pieces.

Watching those Hellhounds tear Dean apart was one of the most traumatizing moments I've ever had, and that's saying a lot. It had been two months since his death, me and Sam had basically begged Bobby not to burn him.

I stared, emotionless. The blank wall matching my expression. I was unable to cry anymore. All my tears had dried up and now I just stared. I didn't want to exist anymore. I looked down at my bracelet that I'd gotten from my dad before he died. It had the cross on it and on the back wrote "God works in mysterious ways" and I almost laughed. I quickly tore it off my wrist and threw it at the wall. It ricocheted to the floor and shattered; it was old. It was bound to break at one point. I stared at it for a minute before laying down on my bed.

"If there was a god why would he do this to me and Sam. What is the point of doing this?" I whispered. Closing my eyes, I listened to my heartbeat.

Why?

"I don't believe," I whispered.

All of a sudden there was a shatter and I stood up, grabbing my gun from the nightstand. There stood two men with black eyes, demons. I knew this gun would do jack to demons, only the colt can kill them. I hadn't bothered painting a devils trap or salting the entrances.

One demon smiled at me, a sickening smile.

"Hello sweetheart," He said before they both charged at me. I shot at them but of course, nothing. In no time they had me up against the wall.

"Oh well aren't you two sweet?" I spat sarcastically.

"Sorry doll, your brother ain't the only one going to hell," He said and my eyes popped wide.

"Even if you kill me, it's not a promise that I'll go to hell," I said. He smirked at me. "Are you working for Lilith?" I asked. He smiled at me, obviously impressed by my questioning, before it changed back to the smirk.

"You could say we work for a greater force," he answered, only leaving me with more questions. One took out a lighter and a brand and I started struggling as he heated the brand. The one holding me put his hands to my throat as I tried to get out of his grasp. My air was now clogged and I couldn't breathe. The demon with the brand grabbed my arm and the next thing I knew, there was scolding hot feeling on my arm. I screamed in pain and the demon covered my mouth. I hadn't realized I'd dropped my gun until the second demon picked it up and aimed it at my heart. I squeezed my eyes shut as a gunshot was heard and everything went black.

~~~

I woke up in a wooden box. Pine to be specific. I lifted my leg, my knee hitting it. It was weak and probably would've caved in, give it a year. I lifted the lid with great force. Smart move idjit. Gravel and dirt rained down on me. I clawed my way out, gasping for air when out. I climbed out, looking around. There were fallen trees surrounding a patch of nothing but grass and as I looked down, there was another grave right beside mine. I automatically recognized this as the place we buried Dean, but this was different. Why had the trees fallen? I was thinking when I noticed his had a hole in it too, as if he'd climbed out. I ran over and started digging at where there had already been a hole and when it was big enough to see the bottom, the coffin was empty. Had Dean gotten out too?

I ran in the direction I thought to be people, or at least a road and when I got there, everything seemed desserted. I found a phone box but I had no change on me. When walking for a while, I found a gas station. The whole thing looked like someone had shot out all the glass, but that was the only thing wrong with it. I walked in, not caring about the glass on the floor. I found a vending machine type thing and I opened it, gulping down two bottles of water, getting my shirt and face wet in the process, before moving on. I realized that I had died by getting shot and pulled the collar of my shirt, seeing no bullet hole or scar. Then I checked my arm where the demon had branded me, nothing, although I did feel a pain on my upper arm. Pulling up my shirt sleeve I saw a red handprint. I stared at it in confusion before spotting something else behind me. I found a newspaper and picked it up, reading the date.