International Falls, Minnesota
It was a local gathering place, where the fisherman and young ones met, the end of the road bar that only the locals knew the trek to. Though the management welcomed outsiders, those sort were few and far in between, and they were just as happy to serve the local population as they were any possible visitors. It was a small place, out of the way of the town itself, among the hills and snow drifts. A place where everyone knew one another, and if they met a new face, then that was just as well.
The place was lightly packed, two tenders behind the bar, a fire raging and cracking in old brick fireplace along the farther wall, snow and wind beating at the old glass windows.
Chatter filled the silence softly, drowning out the silence of those there for more personal of reasons, and the chatter was soft, rolling evenly with the hissing and crackling from the wood burning orange and red. It was warm, not too much so, just the right amount. Groups were gathered, a few couples spread among the outer tables, and in the corner sat a lone man. Hidden among the shadows, where the pale lighting didn't quite reach, only enough to give him presence. He sat leaning back in his chair, not watching any one person in particular, swirling the ice in his glass softly. Silver eyes flashed in the soft candle light from his table, illuminating a youthful face, the slight curve in his pale lips, the shadows dancing across his face, obscuring his identity, though he was doubtful anyone in this lone desolate place knew who he was exactly, but some would sooner then they'd hope to.
There was a soft ringing, the bell above the entrance, as the door was pushed open. Some, the unlucky few who were not so fortunate to get a seat further away, glared at the pair who allowed the cold in, pausing in their chatter. A soft muttered apology and the first tugged a larger male in, closing the door behind him, the warmth surged for the cold, overpowering it, and the few who turned to glare returned to their previous engagements. The shorter of the two, rubbing a hand through his curly hair, scanned the room carefully. His gaze imploring, searching the crowd for one face, and one face only. It took a moment until he found who he sought after, and he stepped forward, the taller of the two followed in step, a silent shadow.
At the table, the one the pair approached, the man hummed to himself, lifting his glass to his lips for a sip, the remaining amber drink running passed his lips before he returned to his previous position.
If only those few knew who they had turned to glare at.
The smaller man muttered something to the taller, to which he nodded, no doubt wanting him to take the lead anyway, and they came to stand before his table. They each pulled out a chair and sat, not saying so much as a word, and silence covered the three of them like that of a warm blanket. The man set his glass down, leaning forward onto his elbows, looking just over their shoulders. A moment passed and his silver eyes turned to each man in turn, lingering on the younger of the pair, and he gave a slight sneer of distaste, personally he had preferred the Leviathan over these roaches, but alas, it was not up for him to decide.
"It has been a long time, Prophet."
"Azrael."
"Before you ask", the larger man took a sip from his glass, "The answer is no."
He didn't look at the other man as he sat in the chair across to him, eyes watching the others in the bustle of the bar, tracking their every movement. The other sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. He should have expected this, he wasn't sure what he was expecting, not after what had happened.
"Son."
"You don't get to call me that."
Another sip, and the other sighed again, turning to watch the people around them too. A man entered the bar, letting in the biting cold wind, some complained quietly, and others turned a glare in his direction but he paid them no mind. Meeting the smiling woman at a side table, the elder of the pair smiled at the couple, they had a long life ahead of them.
The woman was pregnant, a true miracle, the couple had been trying to concieve for years with no luck. Her body was not strong, not as strong as she appeared to be, she was sick. She could not concieve, and her body had refused to carry, until that fateful morning when she'd realized she had been late and held her breath as she drove down to the local drug store for the test.
She had bought two.
The first one she had not believed.
The second one was proof.
She had tried for years, with anything and everything at her disposal. Utero injections, insemination, the works. Nothing would take, and nothing would carry, she was devestated.
Until that day.
The two went from losing hope to having twins.
Not that they knew it yet of course, but being who He was had it's perks, He had it on good authority that they would live long happy lives.
The one in the seat next to him twitched his long fingers, and the woman's phone rang, she turned away from the noisiness of the crowd and pulled the device to her ear. Listening intently to what was being said on the other side, His smile faded only just when her's did, the news was not good news.
His head turned quick. The man next to Him paid Him no mind, twirling the ice in his glass, and taking another sip as if this meant nothing to him.
"Azrael don't you dare."
He smirked, watching as the man took the phone from her and turned to listen, eyes glistening in the dull lighting.
"People die. It happens."
"Azrael leave them be."
The archangel of death turned to look down at his father, eyes glistening with a dangerous light, Chuck turned and met his glare heard on. They made a pair, one nearly three heads taller then Him, and He, a short scruffy man with curly hair. Obsidian eyes met blue. A challenge if there ever was one. He was not phased by the angels anger, rebuffing it with a warning of His own, silent but a warning to be heeded.
"They're children.", Chuck glared at him heatedly, "Fledglings yet to be born."
Azrael waved a hand in dismissal, leaning back in his chair, it didn't so much as creak.
"Bah, children die too,", he turned his gaze back to the young couple, "Life is short but it is sweet."
Chuck shook His head, "Azrael.", the angel ignored His warning and looked into his nearly empty glass, "How many of your children have you let die, Chuck?"
It was a blow, sharp and precise, and He took a breath. Azrael was not one to spare feelings, especially when it was something he was angered over, something he was passionate about, and he was not one to let go so easy. Azrael held grudges. He was short. He did not care how his words affected others.
"How many of my siblings have I had to cross to their final resting place while you were off getting yourself drunk?", He set his glass down, fingers tightening their grip around it, "I know why you are here. I know what you want. Those Winchesters amused my other father, but they do not amuse me, why should I clean up their messes? How many of my siblings have you let perish at their hand?"
There had been too many to count, but He knew them all, He knew exactly how many. Every single one was a punch to the gut. It hurt Him for His angel to perish as they had. In a war that should never have happened. He had been a Father once, loved His children, He still did. But then He had gotten scared, when the decision He had made blew up so spectacularly in His face, and He had fled.
It was cowardice.
"And I know what you had planned.", Azrael, he was not all knowing, but he was such a good listener, a blessing and a curse. Of course he would know, "You wrote yourself a memoir."
Chuck could feel anger starting to boil deep in His belly, how dare this child throw all His mistakes in His face, as if he hadn't made any himself. There was many things Azrael had done that had gone overlooked, he was no where near being a saint himself, he was lucky he had not followed in his older brothers footsteps on his way out.
"When you haven't done anything worth remembering.", He turned to glare at him again but the archangel was unphased, "And I bring us back to here, why shouldn't I, a child's death is nothing more then a number in a book, why should I spare this one's when you couldn't spare one of ours?"
"Azrael", His voice had gotten low, threatening, a warning, a tone He had not used in eons, "I will only tell you this once. You will watch your mouth. You will show me some respect. You will leave that child alone."
Azrael scoffed and waved Him off again, "What are you will do?", Chuck's hand shot out, like a viper after it's prey, and caught his hand, "I am your Father."
"Then act like it.", They were glaring at each other again, Azrael's glare had been known to kill millions, his temper to destroy civilizations, but all of that was nothing in comparison to his Fathers. He stood, tossing a few dollars down on the wooden table, "My answer remains. None of you deserve my time. I would rather see your precious Winchesters choke on their own hearts and do not even let me get started on that traiterous bastard Castiel. Let Her wipe the floor with you for all I care."
Chuck stood quick, the chair scraping against the floor as He did, no one looked over at them, and reached out, letting the angels hand go, and snagged him by the chin, yanking him down until they were eye to eye. Azrael let out a sound of surprise, caught off guard, and his eyes went wide at the glow he saw in those eyes he peered into. A glow he had not seen in such a long time. A glow from his fledglinghood.
"Listen to me carefully", His tone was sharp, deep, and older then time itself, "If you ever talk to me like that again, ever, you won't sit right for a year. I won't tolerate your disrespect Azrael, I never have, and never will.", the taller man was still, not daring make a sound, and He continued, "You will leave those children alone. You may be taller then me, taller then your brothers, but you are still so young. You are still my son and I your Father. Do not think it will be such a stuggle to throw you over something and beat you until you can't stand without wincing."
"You wouldn't."
"Dare to try me?", Azrael stared into His eyes for a long moment, not saying a word for a hot minute, and then he smiled. Chuck narrowed His eyes at him in warning, daring him to say anything out of line, just let him try it. He was in no mood for his games, there was a time and a place, and this most certainly was neither of those.
"My apologies Father.", he looked down a moment, "Forgive me for my disrespect."
He shook His head, knowing when He's been played, of course Azrael would be the one to manage such a rise from Him. Not even Lucifer is able to get under His skin like this one is. He loves him to pieces, He loves all His children, but Azrael can be trying to even the best of them.
"Mind yourself.", but He lets him go. Azrael straightens, rolling his shoulders lightly, and tugs his leather jacket on. Chuck waits for him patiently, tracking his every movement, anger still bubbling just under the skin. It would for some time. This particular angel just had that affect on people.
"At your leave Father."
Dean looked up as the other appeared in the library, raising an eyebrow at the tall man that stood behind Him, silver eyes met his gaze and he vaguely wondered if angels could end you without so much as uttering a word. Chuck met his gaze and followed it over His shoulder, yanking the man around, pointing at the chair nearest Him, "Sit."
"Chuck?", the hunter interrupted them carefully, looking between both men, "Who's this?"
He spared him a look, "This is Azrael."
"I would say it's a pleasure, Winchester," those silver eyes were peering into his soul, peering behind him to spare the younger hunter a cold glare, and Sam frowned, "But it's not."
Chuck shot him a pointed look, "Be silent Azrael.", the larger man bowed his head slightly and sat back, watching them closely but not uttering another word.
"Az? That you?", Lucifer rounded the corner at just the right moment, blue eyes lighting up in recognition, Azrael smiled and turned to peer at his brother over his shoulder, "Lucifer."
So now they have two archangels, one who hates them and another who doesn't care enough to, but only one is leery of getting on Chuck's bad side. Will Azrael be of any real assistance to them? Will Chuck be able to keep them both in check? Will the Winchesters and their pet angel finally get what's been coming to them?