*Chamuel's attempt to save Abel Winchester's soul from Hell. A tribute to how it all started with Destiel.

This is a gift for my friend Jonah, a.k.a @BurninDove, inspired by his story Supernatural: Dark Rapture.

This part of the I-49 was dark and empty. Besides occasional heavy trucks passing by, the unassuming black Impala was the only vehicle on the road.

She was still a beauty after decades of wear and tear, across-country trips, apocalypses, blood and tears. She had gone through multiple crashes, some resulting in her being totaled, but the love of two men and their family kept bringing her back to life. In the middle of the night, she was one with the cloak of darkness if it was not for the sparkling metal details and bright headlights.

Something didn't smell right in the air, which was already damp and stuffy. The unseasonal rain had come and gone an hour ago, leaving behind a trail of thick haze across the county.

Chamuel checked his watch again. It had become a habit. Yes, he was in a rush, but nothing had changed in the past five minutes.

He was a little south of Wyoming. There was nothing but fields and mountains for miles. The country song had started for the third time on the radio, but Chamuel's mind was neither on its repetitive guitar sound nor the darkness outside the car windows. He had only one thing in mind.

It had been no short of a miracle for old Sam to let him drive his precious car, even when it technically belonged to Dean Jr. at this point. Chamuel understood Sam's sentiment and he would be the same way if he was the owner of the car. It had been tied to everything the Winchesters had stood for and done in their lives. The reason why Chamuel needed the car and Sam even let him come near it was that an important person to both of them should be coming home, hopefully, after tonight, on no other vehicle than his family's beloved.

Chamuel drove past Hartville, a tiny community of sixty-two souls, and continued his way eastward. Calvary Cemetery was where he got to be.

The full moon finally reappeared through all the dark clouds giving the archangel some relief. It was a welcoming sight after he had driven blindly, not seeing anything beyond five feet of his headlights for an hour.

It was only 1:30 am but Chamuel felt as if he had been on the road for days. Maybe he had. He couldn't remember for sure. Time seemed a little strange. Yesterday, today, and tomorrow all blended into one stretch. Chamuel didn't know exactly when he had started the journey, but he remembered when he'd left Sam's house. It was Tuesday. Then came Saturday. What happened in between was a blur. His memory was just pieces stringing together that didn't really make any sense. Obviously, Chamuel couldn't drive nonstop without stopping for gas and rest, but his memory was funky at the moment, to say the least.

Chamuel decided to rest the questions and focus on what most important.

A boy with shoulder-length dark hair reappeared in his mind. His bloody smile was hauntingly beautiful, and it cut Chamuel's heart deeper than any razor. How the hell could he smile like that in his last moment? It pissed the archangel off like nothing else and filled his eyes with tears. It was easy for him to cry over that boy. Everything the boy had done—suicidal, foolish, and brave just as he was—made Chamuel hate him and fall for him a little more.

Remember me.

Those were his last words. Foolish boy, did Chamuel have any other choice but remember? The boy had never given the archangel any choice when he had been here and sure as hell none when he was deep under.

Chamuel stopped the car and walked toward the neglected mausoleum. On paper, this cemetery still belonged to the local catholic church so he wouldn't want to wander too long out here in the middle of the night.

He pulled a small silver object that was shaped like four circles, one in the middle and three around, out of his pocket and dropped it to the ground while chanting a long spell in old Latin. It was one of the tools God had given to his kind—the ability to communicate in all languages that had ever been invented.

Chamuel was grateful but hoped he would never have to use it for the same purpose again. Wishful thinking, he knew.

Powerful white light and intense heat started to break through when the spell finished. The ground crumbled like pie crust and sank. A long crack appeared across the cemetery, from one side of the fence to right in front of the mausoleum. The heavy bronze double door shook violently as if there were thousands of hands banging on it from the inside.

Chamuel couldn't stand properly, so he closed his eyes and channeled his grace. A beautiful light pink halo wrapped around his body and the archangel elevated ten feet in the air. He squeezed his eyes, watching the movements at the mausoleum door.

Un. Deux. Trois. Quatre. Cinq. Six. Sept. Huit. Neuf. Dix.

He counted in his head. A weird habit when he got nervous. Chamuel just remembered something that had happened a long time ago but shook it off. He needed to focus.

It was almost time. With the mausoleum doors glowing bright red, Chamuel was ready. He braced himself, and a light—powerful enough to burn out human eyes—covered his whole body. The archangel flew straight at the door like an arrow.

The impact leveled everything in the vicinity and took out the power grid of the three towns nearby.

...

Chamuel fell.

Deeper.

And deeper.

Thousands of skeleton hands clawed at him, pulling him down. His lungs were filled with ash, and countless tortured souls screamed in his ears. The air was cold and thick with sulfur. Chamuel tried but couldn't open his eyes.

Did it hurt when you fall from Heaven?

Cheesy pickup lines. Innocent laughter and mundane stories. Beers and chicken wings. Movie nights. Classic rock and engine sound.

Chamuel smiled in his unconscious state. He felt tears rolling out from the corners of his eyes.

Damn, he had become sentimental too.

Something was soft and warm against his back but he didn't feel safe. His instinct was screaming for him to open his eyes and get back up.

...

"WHAT THE HELL? No, I'm serious, what in the Hell? Can I have one single day to rule this God-forsaken place in peace?"

Chamuel winced at the high-pitched voice and the clicking of high heels hitting the hard floor then seemed to pound into his head. The person, whoever that was, paced back and forth impatiently. Her thick Scottish accent could be considered alluring in a different situation, but right then and there, it just made Chamuel's head want to split in half.

"Queen of Hell, pleasure."

The beige wool cardigan he wore was torn and burned in multiple parts. Chamuel could smell the smoke from himself. He tried to sound confident but what came out was barely a whisper. The archangel forced himself to sit up and gingerly touched the side of his head. He almost fell backward again with the shooting pain in his skull. Chamuel was pretty sure blood was dripping down his forehead and his hearing was done for the day. The ringing nonstop in his ears was the tell-tale sign.

"Oh, charming. To what do I owe this honor, from the... archangel of War and Love?"

Rowenna's eyes swept up and down. Her voice carried a tint of sarcasm, but she didn't appear to be evil. At least Chamuel could hope so based on what he had heard about her from the Winchesters.

"I came with a business proposal," the archangel wiped the blood with his bare hand. "I think we both have something that would benefit the other. Why don't we make a trade?"

"Straight to business, I like. You're sure you don't want to change first, deary?" Rowenna smiled with her left eyebrow raised.

"Nah, no need. I will be back upstairs before breakfast anyway. Can't miss Sam's famous avocado toast."

Chamuel tried his best to appear nonchalant while staying awake. The pain had subsided a little, but the sleepiness was worrisome. He probably got a concussion or something worse, but there was no time to sit down and let it heal.

"Hm, I can tell it's involved the Winchester somehow. They always get the angels wrapped up around their little fingers." Rowenna tilted her head back and laughed heartily. "Generation after generation, and I always get smacked right there in the middle. Sorry, whatever you got yourself into, I can't help. Not at the moment anyway. I would love to, but I'm up to my neck in Hell's business."

The red-haired witch sighed and walked toward the door. She put her hand on the door handle and gestured out.

"Time to go, Chamuel. Back to where you come from. Go now before it's too late." She gave the archangel a dry, not so apologetic smile.

Chamuel pressed his lips together tightly and gathered all of his thoughts. It was hard to focus, but he tried. The archangel then talked fast, faster than he had ever done in his life. Somehow, he willed his voice to came out clearly.

"I've heard about your little war down here. You need a power boost, Rowenna. Collecting souls the old way was tediously slow. It may take you centuries to get the kind of power you need. I know you don't have that kind of time. Those new Knights won't let you sit pretty on your throne for long. That's why you should listen to what I have in mind, then you can decide to go with it or not."

Rowenna rolled her eyes. She didn't want to yield and show her weakness, but somehow the Winchesters and their extended family always got her. She did need the extra power. Hell had grown dangerously unstable recently since the new Order of Knights was sworn in. Rowenna felt her grip slowly get weaker and it didn't feel good one bit.

"For old time's sake, what do you have to offer then?"

The queen of Hell sighed heavily. She knew she might not be able to rule much longer here if she was not careful. Heaven had offered little to no help with this situation she had, and Jack had stuck to his hands-off approach a little more than she expected. Oh, how Rowenna missed the old days when her cunning son was still alive sometimes. The egoistic, evil, manipulative piece of work got on her last nerves and they fought each other to their last breaths more than often, but with Crowley by her side, they would rule Hell with ease. No one would dare to challenge them, not when they remained a united front. Life would be so much better, but a girl could only dream now.

"You have the best battery God has ever created, right here, only one floor down from your bedroom chamber and you just let it lie there collecting dust. How wasteful, Rowenna!"

Chamuel's voice pulled Rowenna out of her daydreaming. He looked up through the curtain of his thick eyelashes and smiled mischievously. At least he had a nice meat suit, the queen of Hell thought while staring at the archangel leaning on the pile of pillows.

"What are you talking about?" Rowenna sounded as confused and annoyed as she looked.

"Tsk, tsk...The cage. Lucifer's cage is what I'm talking about."

At that moment, Rowenna wanted to pull her hair out. How could she forget about it? The recent situation really messed her mind up and gives her a lot of doubts about her intelligence sometimes. Lucifer's cage had been sitting there in the dark for eternity. Rowenna believed someday she would figure out how to put it to use. She knew there was an ancient power embedded in the cage but she didn't know how to tap into it. The fact was, however, power or not, she would've removed it a long time ago if she could, but the cage was put there by the old God himself, so one could imagine how impossible a task it was.

Rowenna didn't want to look at the cage or come anywhere near it unless she absolutely had to. Could be because of who used to reside there, there was this pure evil energy coming from it day and night. The cage gave Rowenna all kinds of heebie-jeebies and she thought she had experienced everything.

"What can I do with it?" Rowenna asked hesitantly.

"Not you," Chamuel pointed at his chest. "I will channel its power for you, but in exchange, I need something from you."

"What do you need?"

"Nothing special. A human soul. One singular soul."

Chamuel smiles charmingly, despite his strawberry blond hair being matted with dry blood.

"What? Do you know how hard, how damaging it is to take a soul out of Hell, where it belongs?"

"He doesn't belong here. He was...is good."

Chamuel jumped on his feet then fell on the bed helplessly, wincing.

"Ah, I see,..." Rowenna smirked.

The archangel had a feeling this was not her first rodeo. Rowenna gestured Chamuel to follow her out of her chamber. Together, they went through a dimmed hallway that seemed to have no end. It was lit by many floating fires right above their heads, not too far and not too close.

There was no heat coming from these fires and Chamuel shivered lightly. Opposite to what people believe, Hell was a cold, vast place with multiple doors opening to different levels. It changed one's perception of time and space gradually. The two creatures, the queen of Hell and the archangel of War and Love, walked quietly until they reached the Edge. It was a giant fracture that opened straight into the heart of Hell. No one had ever ventured down to the bottom and came back, so it remained a big mystery.

Far below from where they stood was the cage. Chamuel could only see its vague silhouette, large and quiet like a sleeping beast, just waiting for someone or something to fall into its mouth.

"A sight to behold, isn't it?" Rowenna spoke under her breath.

Chamuel frowned without saying a word, his wings materialized and opened almost 30 feet wide in the air.

"Stand back," the archangel commanded.

Chamuel's eyes glowed up brightly in the dark. Something about him, his halo, the light pink wings with golden tips, or the tone of his voice, gave Rowenna chills. He reminded her so much of another archangel, the one who got condemned by both Heaven and Earth a long time ago

The dead Morning Star was more than what they said about him. He was more than sins, destruction, and betrayal. He was beauty, infinite knowledge, and love. A love that was so strong, he rebelled for it. Was it wrong to love one's self and family more than anything? To question? The stories were written by the winning side, so how much of it was true? No one knew and no one cared to find out. He was just the Light Bringer that the world was taught to hate, then forgot about.

The two archangels, one in Rowenna's memory and the other standing in front of her, couldn't be more different, but at this moment, they merged into one and Lucifer seemed to be back in the flesh with all of his former glory.

Chamuel glanced at Rowenna's face. The queen seemed to be lost in nostalgia, so he left her alone. The archangel leaped into the air and flew downward.

The closer he got to the cage, the more out of control he felt. Equally powerful forces pushed and pulled Chamuel in different directions, some from the cage itself and some from the gushes of winds deep below, but there was no turning back at this point. He had come so far. The boy was waiting.

"Come on, a little closer."

Chamuel grunted and fought his way toward the cage. The halo surrounding him flickered and dimmed significantly. He just couldn't stay in one spot for long without getting blown away over and over again.

"COME ON!"

Chamuel threw himself hard against the cage in one last attempt. The impact shook the whole area and knocked Rowenna to the ground.

"Holy..." the queen of Hell crawled on all four to get a little closer to the opening and screamed down. "Let me know beforehand next time, you angel!"

She saw Chamuel, who then resembled a wounded sparrow, flinging back and forth in the wind, but stubbornly held on to the cage's bars with all his might.

Before the archangel could answer her, invisible tentacles from the cage wrapped around his wings and suspended him in the air. Chamuel screamed with the searing pain sipping through each of his feathers and paralyzed him. He was pulled in so hard that his skull smacked against the bars and Chamuel blacked out.

He woke up soon after thanks to Rowenna screaming his name and the crushing force he felt around his head. The cage continuously sucked him in, so his head was jammed between the bars.

Fear and survival instinct kicked in, the archangel tried his best to break free from the evil embrace of the cage but it was too late. No matter how much he tried, it just didn't let him go.

He felt exhausted. Pain and despair captured him like a spider net. Chamuel was sure this was the end.

Remember why you're here.

A voice got through all of the noises and statics in his head. The boy with messy shoulder-length hair and a cocky smirk appears in front of him again.

Just a little more, he said. Don't be afraid. You know why you're here.

Chamuel closed his eyes and exhaled. He quieted his mind and stopped struggling. Then suddenly, there were no more movements, no more pain.

All of the Enochian symbols engraved on the cage lighted up together around Chamuel like a blinking star map. It spread from where he was to all sides, and as if someone just flipped a switch, the cage turned into a lighthouse in the sea of darkness. Pulses of energy could be felt through all corners of Hell started to pour into Chamuel's body. His vessel cracked like a china doll and he knew it wouldn't hold much longer.

Rowenna hugged her body tightly to protect herself against the frosty wind coming up from the opening. She carefully looked down and squinted her eyes at the beaming light. All she could see was the silhouette of a winged figure in the middle of it all.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING, Chamuel? Let it go or you won't survive!" The queen of Hell yelled down.

"No...I...won't."

Chamuel's whispering answer barely got to Rowenna. He tried his best to hold everything together, but his head wanted to explode with all of the screamings and clanking noises from the cage. It was millennia worth of resentment and anger from the two archangels who got locked up here before, definitely out of Chamuel's league.

"Just...a...little..more...." The archangel whispered to himself, then suddenly busted out a scream in Enochian.

Release me.

A beam of light shot straight up from where the cage was to the ragged rock dome high above them. It then slowly morphed into a giant ball and floated down to the surface.

"Catch it..."

Chamuel's raspy voice rang in Rowenna's ears like a bell. She held out her hands for the light ball and watched it meekly come to her like a child. The ball was as big as half of her body but weightless and emitted warmth like a living thing.

"What am I supposed to do with it?" Rowenna was baffled at what she was holding.

"Take it. Consume it."

"Consume it? How? Did you look at yourself? And you're an archangel!"

"It has accepted you, you'll be fine. Just open your mouth and let it in."

Chamuel chuckled tiringly while holding on to a piece of steel chain where the cage used to be. He needed to reserve his energy. He just needed to hold on until his grace recharged, then all of this would be history.

Using himself to draw the raw power out from the cage and tame it was probably not a very good idea. It was the same as letting a high voltage current run through his veins, the pain was beyond anything he had ever experienced, but it was worth it. Well, it would be worth it when Rowenna kept her words and he got what he came here for.

Chamuel flapped his wings a few times and checked on his grace. He looked up to the opening and shouted.

" Here I come!"

With one flap, he was halfway there. Chamuel stood next to the queen of Hell in under 5 minutes, in extremely high spirit, even when his wings and clothes were a mess.

"Well, it didn't taste good, I tell you that much, and I don't feel anything different," Rowenna belched. "Excuse me."

"Test your power, you will see the difference. Go ahead, I'll wait."

Rowenna didn't wait for Chamuel to say it again. She disappeared in a cloud of grey smoke and came back after 30 minutes. Her turquoise silk dress was drenched in blood but a satisfying smile hung on her cherry lips.

"Not bad, hahaha... You should see Astaroth's face when I popped her lieutenant's head like a riped melon. Oh my Jack, I could get used to this! With this power, no one would dare to mess with me, the queen, in a long long time."

Rowenna intended to come over and put a kiss on Chamuel's cheek, but the archangel expertly avoided her advance.

"Don't you want to change into something dry?" He cleared his throat while watching Rowenna shrug. "The power from the cage was unmatched by anything in Hell and on Earth, so you know I put a lot of trust in you that you will use it correctly. The Winchesters trusted you so it says something, but remember, Heaven always watches."

"Heaven always watches," Rowenna rolled her eyes and sighed. "Of course, I know that. I only need this for self-defense and put Hell back in order. I love my boys too much to create troubles for them."

The queen of Hell smiled brilliantly and put her hand on Chamuel's shoulder.

"I never liked too many responsibilities. Everything I've ever wanted and needed is right here in Hell. Now, a deal is a deal. Follow me."

They turned away from the Edge with all of its howling winds and the scenery changed. Suddenly, they were standing before a black ocean with stark white sand. The ink-black waves continuously lapped on the shore, but there was no sound whatsoever. It felt as if they were in a dream. A sense of peace and serenity that no one thought existed in Hell washed over both of them.

"You know the racks, Chamuel. Well, since I took over, I've made some changes. I found those racks distasteful. That doesn't mean I got rid of them totally, just limited their use to the extremely bad souls." Rowenna closed her eyes and inhaled the cold, odorless mist from the ocean. "The rest of them, ones who made the mistake of signing away their souls but were not so bad in life, ended up here. Now tell me whose soul do you want?" The queen opened her emerald green eyes and looked at Chamuel. His eyes wandered far out to the black horizon, where no sun ever rose.

"I want Abel, Abel Winchester's soul."

"Then you will have to swim out there and get it, but don't say I didn't warn ya. The ocean is a wicked place. It is always hungry for living souls. Are you sure you want to do that? You know it will just be an eternal sleep for the Winchester boy. No pain, no suffering will ever come to him, but your grace will be damaged further, you might not make it back to shore. Is it even worth it?"

"He is waiting for me, I know it. He hates being alone, so he won't like staying here. He belongs with his family. I am his and he is mine, so it is worth it. My grace is fine. I am fine. We will make it back together."

Chamuel nodded to Rowenna and walked into the black water. It slowly rose to his ankles, calves, then knees. The bitter cold bit into his skin viciously and just like with the cage, he could feel his grace diminished with each step he took. The answer he gave Rowenna was more of an affirmation for himself than anything else, but he meant every word.

The boy was waiting for him. They were going home. Together. That was the promise he made and intended to keep.

Chamuel closed his eyes and dove into the bottomless, hungry ocean.