Never the Same

Summary: Dean Winchester is raised from perdition by an Angel of the Lord, Castiel. Unfortunately, he has become a demon, one who has surpassed his teacher as a master torturer in Hell. But he's still the same Dean, right? Wrong. He's a yellow eyed demon with some very loyal followers and a desire to get some payback on the God that dared to put his Sammy in harm's way. Fallen!Castiel/Demon!Dean, Crowley and Alastair tag-a-longs

All Characters in this work of fiction © Eric Kripke and the CW

I mean no infringement and am not making any money off of this, because that'd be stepping on toes and that's not me.

This crappy idea is mine and no one else is to blame for the train wreck that will no doubt come.

Location: The Pit. August 18, 2008.

Dean was in his little piece of Hell, torturing damned souls like the fucking pro he was while listening to Metallica.

He'd been there since he broke down and agreed to take up the knife over ten years ago. And look at him now. Alastair was officially his bitch and he had a horde of demons completely loyal to him, which was freaking boss.

To be honest, he was happy down here, or as happy as anyone who was covered in blood and surrounded by screaming souls could be. Being the demon he was, he was probably like the proverbial fat kid who got ten chocolate cakes with extra frosting and everything.

The only thing that could make him happier was having Sammy with him.

But Dean would never want his baby brother to see Hell and he intended to keep it that way too, even if it tore him up inside.

It was when Dean started thinking about Sammy again, like really thinking about his big oaf of a brother and missing him and his bitch face, that the master torturer noticed Hell beginning to shake.

The elder of the Winchester brothers shielded his eyes from the blinding white light that enveloped his room. But he could hear the souls around him scream in pain and what he assumed was joy because this light was something holy and it burned them so bad with its light that was so filled with love. The power of this light made Dean's skin burn and his soul writhe in his body with its pure intensity.

Something landed in front of Dean. It was a huge mass of light that had the vague outline of a human in it. But obviously this thing wasn't human. It had huge fricking wings spread out behind it and wore this shimmering silver-blue armor that seemed to be alive.

This was an angel. An Angel of God. Every fiber in his being, demonic and human, told him that this miniature sun that was standing in front of him and attempting to burn out his eye balls was a genuine angel.

And then, the light suddenly died down and Dean could see a dower young man standing in front of him. The guy was probably a little bit older than himself, but he kinda looked like the scruffy accountant type with his sad blue eyes and short, neat yet messy, brown hair. Except he was wearing medieval-looking battle armor instead of a suit.

"Dean Winchester. I am Castiel. I have come to raise you from perdition," the angel spoke in a deep monotone that sounded all business and no fun.

"A little late for that, don't you think?" Dean countered in a mocking voice and a flick of his knife.

His knife was a work of beauty, kinda like Lucy Liu in Kill Bill. She was a switchblade, something that he wouldn't have considered to be his thing before, but she was just so damn good to him. The pretty little thing had a black handle that was as black as his Impala's paint job and a seven inch black blade that just slid out real nice and fast. She was sturdy with an edge that could peel cells apart if he wanted and a wicked serrated edge on the reverse for when he felt like making things messy. She even had symbols etched into her blade so that he could kill demons if he felt like it. Yeah. She had been real good to him.

And now he was going to show this angel what his little baby girl could do. Or he would have if those baby blues of the angel hadn't fixed the most torn up look on him.

"So, I was too late," the angel spoke again, but this time his voice sounded remorseful and Dean wanted to see what other emotions this angel could produce with his voice.

"Well, maybe not," the demon spoke, a flirtatious smile making an appearance on his lips, "Maybe you can save this damned soul."

Dean's eyes flashed from that intense, creepy, marble yellow that he remembered Azazel wearing to his human forest green as he walked up to the angel and ran his knife lightly under the holy warrior's chin. He could feel the hum of the angel's power trying to cleanse his own demonic presence through his knife and it made him shiver with a twisted melding of pleasure and pain.

"Yeah, maybe you can save this soul," Dean purred seductively, locking the scruffy angel's hopeful gaze to his own as he moved closer and pressed their lips together. The demon smirked as he felt the radiant being in front of him tense up, but Dean persisted in this kiss, pressing their lips together a little harder to draw out more painful pleasure for himself.

The angel, Castiel, pushed Dean away from him and backed away hesitantly. He was shocked that he had allowed such an impure being to taint his lips. But at the same time, he was bewildered by the strange feeling of electricity running through his body when Dean Winchester had settled his lips against his own.

Castiel shook his head. He recalled that his brothers were waiting for him outside of this room in the Pit and that he should hurry and retrieve the Righteous Man. But this man, he was no longer human and Castiel wasn't sure what to do. Dean had told him that he might be able to save him after all, but Castiel wasn't sure how that could be done. Not when the demon had fallen so far already.

"I swear, I can see your thoughts running through your head. Your eyes really are windows to your soul, Cas," Dean chuckled and noticed the angel fixing a confused look on him, coupled with a head tilt that made the warrior look so innocent it should have been a crime.

"I don't understand. I am an angel of the Lord, Dean Winchester. I have no soul. And who is this Cas? I am Castiel," the angel questioned and looked around the formerly dark, but still dirty room that they currently occupied. As far as he could tell, none of these humans present with them were named Cas.

The demon felt his jaw fall slack for a moment, amazed that this angel was so naïve. But he picked up his jaw and chuckled, amused that Castiel was like a baby in a suit of armor.

"I wasn't saying you had a soul, buddy. I was just using one of those-what are they called? Oh, right. Metaphors. I was using one of those metaphors. And Cas is the nickname I gave you," Dean clarified for the confused angel.

But he took one more look at the sad, scruffy accountant warrior before he pulled him down for another kiss and made this one dirty, with tongues, teeth, blood and everything. This time, the angel seemed to yield a bit, though he was still a mostly passive participant. And that was ok, because things were just beginning and Dean had a lot of plans for this angel of the Lord. So, when he felt the angel beginning to struggle again, he switched things up and made the kiss one that was chaste and sweet and filled with something that was like love, but it wasn't.

Castiel was confused by everything that he was doing with Dean Winchester. He felt dirtied by the demon and yet he was drawn to the humanly green eyes of the Righteous Man. But he wanted to get away from the kiss. It felt dirty and wrong and-and then it became the most glorious and innocent thing he had ever experienced. The kiss was chaste and so full of love that he felt that Dean might have actually become connected to the Host for a moment. This made the angel stop his struggling and accept the kiss and the embrace and feelings that it made him experience. He finally returned the kiss.

Inside his head, Dean was smirking because he couldn't let the angel know what he was up to or the pretty thing might run away from him. But as he kept Castiel distracted, he had Alastair sneak off and tell the demons to fight harder and kick the angels out of the Pit, leaving his angel all alone and trapped in his grasp.