Smoke

Bela landed on her hands and knees, the transition rough and inescapable. Rock beneath her palms gave her a clue about where she was, rock which soaked heat right into her skin. She didn’t want to look.

But she’d made it a point to face everything in her life. Even trying to find a trade to get out of her deal had been active. She hadn’t just sat around and waited for ten years, putting it out of her mind as so many future-demons did.

Pushing herself upright, she saw the vast reaches of a plain in Hell, the red and grey striated rock disappearing into the distance, columns rising as jagged poles into the heights above.

At least there weren’t any flames. It escaped that cliche.

Ahead of her, Dean stood surrounded by demons, still on their knees, with the woman who had bowed standing before him with awe on her face. A few feet to the side of Dean, Castiel did not look as impressed.

He also didn’t look as human as he managed on Earth, the air shimmering around his head and at his back as aspects of his real self reacted to the location. It wouldn’t take much for his wings to manifest. Or wouldn’t have, back when he was whole.

“Dean,” Castiel said, taking a half step towards his lover.

Dean’s smile only grew as he turned to face Castiel, and Bela found herself moving back as subtly as she could. She couldn’t afford to draw any ire here. Knowledgeable she was, and she’d achieved something previously unknown in slipping through angel Heaven, but she was far from powerful as a demon.

“Cas,” Dean said, the name a caress. “How’d you like your new home?”

“This is not your home, Dean,” Castiel hissed.

“Oh, but it is, Angel,” Dean said. “And now it’s yours, too. What?” He closed the gap between them, standing near enough to Castiel to reach out and trail a finger down the angel’s cheek. Castiel looked like he wanted to turn away, but he didn’t. “You didn’t think I’d leave you behind, did you, Sweetheart?”

Dean leaned in and brushed a kiss against Castiel’s lips, sliding his hand around the back of Castiel’s head. From the stiffness in Castiel’s body it wasn’t returned. Pulling back, Dean tutted.

“Don’t worry, Cas. You’ll come round. Give it a while, you’ll be happy sitting on your own throne next to mine.”

At that, the lead demon shot a look at Castiel that cast severe doubt on Bela’s plan to establish Castiel as the Regent in Dean’s place.

“Sire-” she started.

“No,” Dean said, cutting her off. “Some of you might have had some cockamamie scheme to use Cas as Knight-fuel, but it turns out that wasn’t needed. Here I am. All of me. Worked out pretty well, didn’t it?”

There was a sway to Dean’s body that hadn’t been there before, and he ran his hands down his torso and over his hips in a move Bela was sure was more at home on a certain type of stage. This was not the Dean she was used to, cocky and flustered by turns. This Dean was at home in his body and not afraid to use it.

“Very well, Sire,” the demon said. She looked borderline transfixed.

“Yeah,” Dean said. “So there’s no need to be anything but welcoming to my Queen, now is there?”

“Queen?” Castiel asked.

Bela almost laughed, but she was almost sure the shock and disgust in the angel’s tone was nothing to do with gender. Hannah certainly didn’t get gender. Not the way someone born into a world obsessed with it did. Even having spent time as a human, Castiel was more likely to be outraged at the idea of Dean taking the throne at all, and assigning Castiel a seat by his side.

Yet Bela could have sworn Castiel was at least a little interested in the idea of Dean taking power and putting someone in place as his proxy. He was a warrior, better suited to winning a field than to tending it long-term, but from what Hannah had said he wasn’t afraid of tough choices, or morally dubious ones.

There were too many currents here to be sure of anything, and Bela was all too aware she was one of only two demons on her feet. Not counting Dean.

“And my handmaiden, here. She gets her ass kissed, too. You hear?”

She was so busy working out how to play this that she almost missed Dean throwing his arm out in her direction.

“Bela,” Dean said, clicking his fingers.

She had her pride, but more than anything else Bela had always been a survivor. She went.