Author's note: Though there are great stories out there I wasn't satisfied with the way events unfolded in Hell, so I had to write one of my own of Dean down there. This was for the CW drabble challenge, run by PandoraTHExplora and Witchcraft13. They are completely to blame for me now writing fanfiction. The word was "creep".

Disclaimer: Not my characters, everything belongs to… whoever Supernatural belongs to. Probably Eric Kripke, the hero who pulled me out of a plot hole in the season 4 finale. WOW! I loved every second of it!

On another note: My dear friend 1983Sarah has created a lovely Supernatural fic called "Gotta Have Faith" and she would love reviews to keep it going. Also, if you decided to stop by her page, but doesn't want to read a fic, she has a FANTASTIC poem there called "Drinking From the Cup". I swear you'll love it!

Dean Winchester is Saved

Castiel remembered Hell. It hadn't been his first visit nor would it be his last. His superiors had called a counsel of war and they had all arrived. Some with joy, some with sorrow. All with determination. They had known something was brewing, that the time to take up arms against the darkness was again upon them. They had laid siege to Hell. Each time they charged the defences broke a little more. And suddenly the walls had fallen and full scale warfare was on.

Castiel remembered his sword, not available to him in his human vessel, reeking with what to human eyes would have looked like blood. The awful apparitions that had turned away from his Father had attacked from every direction, within and without, and foul, dark deeds committed by humanity had been hurled at them. In the midst of it all he was proud of his brothers and sisters as none of them fell to the weaknesses that were Hell. They openly turned to each other for strength, light and love each time temptation tried to get them on their own. Acting as one force and not as shattered individuals. Unity and loyalty was always their best weapon.

Castiel remembered well the horrors he had seen. In every corner he had met with souls that had had their chance, over and over, at doing the right thing - but had persisted in wickedness. Not even now recognizing light and love. None of them turned towards him with a plea of salvation. If they only had! Castiel would have stopped at nothing to get them out. But corruption has its own alluring stench and Castiel had wrapped his aura tighter to stop it from creeping into him. Everywhere the battle reigned.

Castiel remembered finding their target. There, as a beacon in the night, as penetrating as a distressed, sobbing child's cries to a mother, Castiel had homed in on the one soul they had all come to save. A soul suffering not only the torments of Hell but also the guilt of a human conscience. The soul of a man torturing those beyond redemption, mechanically applying the most terrible pain he could think of... And yet never coming close to the terrors and hurt his own mind inflicted upon him. Dean Winchester's soul was the only one still able to sense the warmth of the light that had entered Hell - and he was trying to shake off his numbness and turn towards it.

Castiel remembered dispassionately lighting up another demon barring his way and, finally, closing in on the human child. Sensing his presence the knife had fallen from his hand. Castiel had reached out and, with no time to be gentle, gripped him tight and aimed for the light. Knowing he held the only thing Hell couldn't keep he sent out the signal for retreat. Dean Winchester is saved!