Demons, Demigods and Hunters: Return from Hell

Chapter 7

Dean

Even as Dr. Cartwright tried to ask him more about Anna, or rather the promise he had made to her after she'd fallen into Hell, he ignored her. His eyes were drawn to her sullen form, sitting rigidly by the window.

He knew time ran differently downstairs, and he didn't know how long she was there. But it was at least a year, likely longer. That was centuries of torment. Of running and hiding and fighting. To be ripped away from that and returned to the land of the living, even if it was preferable to the torment of Hell, the adjustment was still... uncomfortable. Dean still struggled with his own miracle. He remembered the first time he had met Cas, just a few days after his return from Hell.

The warehouse was empty and quiet. He glanced up at Bobby, and finally voiced the question that had been on his mind for the past several minutes.

"You sure you did the ritual right?" He asked. The older hunter just shot him an unimpressed look. Dean sighed.

"Sorry. Touchy touchy, huh?" He muttered. Suddenly the walls began to rattle, and the lights around them flickered. He and Bobby both reach for their shotguns, turning around to face the doors, even as the roof shook and shuddered.

"Wishful thinking, but maybe it's just the wind," Dean said quietly. He didn't see Bobby's reaction because at that moment, the doors burst in. A man in a trench coat, and a business suit walked in. As the stranger stalked through the warehouse, the light bulbs began to shatter, glass spraying everywhere. Dean and Bobby opened fire, but nothing happened. Not even a scratch. The only thing damaged was the odd trench coat the stranger wore.

Dean slowly reached for the demon killing knife, holding it defensively in front of him.

"Who are you?" He demanded. The man had a strange expression on his face, a mix of earnest and curious and maybe even a little bit innocent. He looked at Dean for a moment before responding in a gravelly voice.

"I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition." Dean snorted with derision. He ignored the little voice inside that was reminding him that he'd gotten free a week early.

"No. They let me go. That was the deal; one month for every day he was gone. But thanks." The man looked surprised. Dean took the opening and plunged the knife into the man's chest. He looked down, unconcerned, and pulled it out before dropping it onto the floor. Dean's eyes widened with shock. Bobby attacked the man, diving forward. The man didn't even look as he snatched the iron crowbar out of Bobby's hand before touching his forehead with two fingers. Bobby crumpled to the floor, unconscious. The man glanced over to Dean, his face the same passive and bland expression he had been wearing when he walked into the warehouse.

"We need to talk, Dean. Alone." He ignored the man and dropped to the floor, pressing two fingers under Bobby's chin. He felt a steady flutter against his fingertips, Bobby's pulse strong and steady. The man frowned as he watched him.

"Your friend's alive." Dean just scowled harder.

"Who are you?" He demanded. He could practically feel her presence behind him, a feeling only cemented by the fact that he'd seen her while he'd been in Hell. She'd tried to help him, rescue him multiple times, but he'd sold his soul; he belonged to the Pit, no matter what she had done. She didn't, not till after his sentence was up at least; but stayed with him anyways. He only wished that when he'd woken up in his own coffin, he could have brought her back with him too.

"Castiel." Was the monosyllabic response. Dean felt a growl rising in his chest.

"Yeah, I figured that much, I mean what are you?" Castiel, and wasn't that a mouthful, looked at him blankly.