Castiel sat silently, overlooking the flat landscape of central Indiana, on a bus. An angel of the Lord, in all his glory, on a bus. It was a bit humbling, sitting there on said bus, but his superiors told him it was necessary. That was all they told him, that it was necessary. Castiel didn't ask; he didn't need to know.

But there he was, reason or not, waiting patiently for the human transportation vehicle to take him to where he needed to go. Did the humans not see how slow the contraption was going? They were peculiar like that; they would kill each other over a difference of opinion, but they didn't seem to mind the speed at which their busses were going.

The bus rolled to a stop once more (for the fifth time, Castiel had counted), let a passenger on, and departed once more. A passenger that was now, apparently, coming to sit by the angel. The stranger smiled and greeted Castiel with a typical human salutation, of which he returned in his normal monotone. The man swung his bag under the bus seat and slid in next to the angel.

"Dean Winchester." He informed Castiel. Winchester…

It took almost a second to register the importance of that name (Castiel was getting rusty from his time away from the mission.)

"Is Mary Winchester related to you?" He questioned, tilting his head ever-so-slightly to the side.

Dean furrowed his brow from the suddenness of the question, "Yeah, she was my mom. Did you know her?"

Castiel probably knew more about Dean's mother than Dean himself did. She was famous among angels for killing Azazel: a demon that had been a pain in their sides for millennia. Of course she died in the process, going up in flames alongside the demon. She had earned herself a spot in heaven though, something not many hunters are able to do.

"Not personally." He replied, returning his gaze to the miles of cornrows that stretched out for miles. Dean smiled again, "You're not from around here, are you?" Dean asked, probably picking up on the lack of Castiel's social grace, "Let me guess, Russian?" Castiel supposed his vessel did look of Soviet decent, but all humans looked the same to him.

"Something like that."

"What was your name? You never said."

The angel thought for a moment, thinking of a name that would be easy to forget, because he was expressly forbidden from telling any human about who he was unless it was absolutely needed.

"John Ficher"

"Doesn't sound very Russian to me." Dean responded, though his voice held traces of amusement and not of suspicion. 'John' had nothing to say in response, so he let the conversation turn to silence.

After a while, the bus slowed to a final stop, and everyone exited. Once outside, Dean shifted the strap of his bag that was currently placed on his shoulder.

"Well, it was nice meeting you John."

And with that, he left.

The great thing about America was that there was a never ending supply of place to perform a murder, which was convenient seeing as though that was what Castiel was informed he was about to do. He was also told why he needed to take a bus to a random rundown shack in Ohio. It was because he was trying to discreet; he was sent here to kill an angel.

So Castiel did what he was told, though which of his brothers or sisters he was being ordered to murder remained a mystery. A 'surprise' as Uriel has put it. As he was walking into the decrepit building, he found that it was exactly that, a 'surprise'.

"Anna?" He called out, hoping very much that it was not her. The angel whipped around to face him, confirming that it was, indeed, Anna. Of course it was. Castiel knew better than to hope.

"Castiel," she regarded him, her eyes were wild as though she was already trying to send her point of view directly into his mind, "I know what you've come here to do, and if you would just listen-"

"I don't listen to disobedient angels," he interrupted, revealing a silver blade readying to plunge it into his sister, "and if you know why I am here, then you know I must carry it out."

"Please Castiel, you know something's wrong. You can feel it, can't you? They're planning something, something huge."

It was true, the angels were acting strangely. They were asking him to do more things with less explanation, asking him to draw on his blind faith. Castiel would be lying if he said he didn't doubt his superiors sometimes.

"Don't do this," Anna urged on, closing the short distance between them quickly, "You don't have to. If you come with me I can show you."

"I cannot-" He began.

"You can Castiel. You are my brother, and I am your sister," Her words sounded sincere, causing him to knit his brow in concentration. Uriel must have notice Castiel's hesitance; he stepped out from the shadows he was previously hiding in and nodded towards Anna, giving him the signal that now was the time to strike.

Castiel knew what side he belonged on.

Raising the silver blade, he muttered the words, "I'm sorry," before planting the blade in his sister's chest. A blinding light shone from her eyes as she collapsed to the ground at Castiel's feet, the black outline of her wings permanently painted on the walls. Uriel gave him another nod of approval before disappearing, leaving Castiel alone.

Heaven had become, ironically, more hectic in the following week. He wasn't asked to do much else, other than normal angelic duties, however something was most definitely off. It was obvious that they were planning something; now it was just a question of what.

Castiel started to wish he had spent more time talking to Anna.

"You made what happen?" Castiel asked Zachariah incredulously.

"Armageddon. The end of days. Lucifer walks and we need to prepare."

More than anything he wanted to ask why, but he knew they would only tell him enough to get the job done.

"What do you need?" Castiel asked dutifully. Zachariah smiled, "The Winchester boys. There are two of them. You met Dean; the other one is called Sam. They are the vessels."

Castiel knew whose vessels they were; Michal and Lucifer were always destined to fight when the time came.

"I need you," Zachariah continued, "to bring them to me. Specifically Dean, find him and convince him to say yes to Michal."

"How do I do that?"

"Make him trust you. Humans are easy, just save his life once or twice and he's yours."

That should have been it. Castiel should have been off like the good servant of heaven he was. But something felt wrong (he seemed to be having that feeling increasingly often) about this.

"Are you sure this is the best way?"

Zachariah looked taken aback, "Castiel, are you, of all angels, questioning me?"

He thought for a moment.

"No, of course not. I will do what you ask."

The last thing he was before he left for earth was Zachariah's suspicious face.