He was trying to find peace among the stars, nestled in the lapis blue sky framed by the decorated vault. Each star gleamed as the soft light from the hanging chandeliers gently revealed the gold leaf. Even though they could barely be more different than the actual piece of nature they portrayed, there was a measure of quietude he found in the perfectly spaced and counted manmade designs. Had his charge known he had thought to check a chapel for his Father, he would have scoffed and perhaps rolled his eyes.

The angel followed the path of the vaults down the brightly painted pillars, past the famous stained glass windows to the floor. There was no part of this chapel that was not richly decorated, each inch carefully attended to by the vision of the artists. Squinting at nothing in particular, he remembered that it was Louis IX's creation, to house his various relics of Christ. Looking down, he saw that he stood on a tile depicting a castle. It was framed with symmetric botanical themes and the easily identifiable mark of French royalty – the fleur-de-lis. He turned around, facing away from the castle and looking towards the altar.

He supposed that the architecture served its purpose, as he felt, at least in this human vessel, rather small among all the sumptuous designs. Had anyone else been there, they probably would have stared at the trench-coated businessman standing the middle of the nave, nearly glowering at the beauty around him. Among the many questions he had for his Father, he added this one to the list – had he intended for this reaction in humanity?

"He probably wouldn't give a straight answer, owlet." A smug voice filtered through the once tranquil air.

Castiel turned to see his brother Gabriel seated against one of the walls depicting various animals in hues of blue, red and grey. He was craning his neck to look at the ceiling as his brother had just some time ago. An unexpected flare of anger streaked through the younger angel, and he had to quell the impulse to do something drastic.

"Brother," he tilted his head in a semblance of a respectful nod, although it was irritating to even have to show the respect. He was torn between figuring out for what reason the meddling angel had appeared and flying to the Winchesters. After Sam's personal nightmare and the brothers' stint in TV Land, Castiel tasted the brininess of betrayal by entertaining whatever Gabriel had to say. He then narrowed his eyes, "Did you call me 'owlet'?"

"Yep." He was still staring at the stars, gold eyes flitting between the gold stars. Castiel saw unease in his brother's posture, even though the archangel was attempting to appear normal. "It's your eyes, you make your vessel stare so intensely, didn't you notice?"

"No, I have not. And please, it's Castiel." He tried to stride across the floor, but it ended up as a tired shuffle. This too Gabriel noticed and he frowned.

"Take it easy, kiddo." He snapped his fingers and one of the folded chairs that had been resting in the back of the chapel appeared, unfolded, in front of him. Gabriel swung his legs to rest on it, and he crossed his feet at the ankles. "Rest a minute, won't kill you. And don't puff up that fluffy down at me."

Castiel stood only a few feet from his brother and shook his head. Leave it to his brother to take a nickname much further than needed.

"It would take precious time-"

"Sit." He injected some of his archangel authority into his voice, and the lesser angel obeyed, sitting next to the shorter man, but still a respectful distance away.

"Gabriel, I assume you have some purpose in following me here, other than trying my patience." Just because he had told to sit didn't mean he couldn't talk. The angel Castiel was before he had met Dean would never have opened his mouth, but his extraordinarily willful charge had influenced him most certainly.

Apparently Gabriel agreed as he arched an eyebrow at his younger brother. The look passed and he began to observe at the stained glass that decorated the chapel. Another snap of his fingers, and one of the large plastic-protected explanations of the chapel appeared in his hands. He began to read through it, humming as he did so.

"Thirteenth century, built by-"

"Louis IX, later canonized. It was an effort on behalf of the king to connect his reign and right to rule directly to God." Castiel supplied, not looking at his brother as he spoke.

Gabriel cleared his throat, although Castiel supposed this was one of those instances where it was someone making their displeasure at being interrupted known.

"Do not take that holier-than-thou attitude with me, you hear? When it comes down it, I am, by definition, holier than thou. Literally, more angel over here." He gestured to himself and Castiel must have responded with what was a critical glance considering the offended 'hey' that followed.

"I'm not entirely sure what that reference means, brother, but I meant no harm."

"Yeah, yeah, that's what they all say. That's how it starts, you know." He didn't look back up at his younger brother, who sat up straight, focused on the situation at hand.

"That's how what starts?" He was still angry with his brother for putting him through the fight of reaching Dean and Sam in his conjured land, but just the act of sitting near him lessened his anger. Slightly.

"Over one thousand separate scenes in this glass, owlet." Gabriel commented, making Castiel frown again at the nickname and at the change of subject. "And I bet, somewhere in here, I got at least half a pane. Good old Annunciation always make it in somewhere."

"Gabriel," Castiel pressed again, not particularly caring that his vain brother was making himself the center of attention, as per usual.

"Shush! I'm trying to soak in the glory over here!" Gabriel admonished, and Castiel chanced a glimpse to see the explanation card gone and his brother once again looking at the ceiling, his eyes drifting to the rose window.

Suddenly Castiel realized why people looked heavenward when frustrated with the current situation before them. He constantly prayed for his Father to give him the strength to do the right thing, and in this moment, he prayed particularly strongly. He imagined Gabriel wouldn't take too well to being surprised with a fist to his nose.

"I heard that, too. Thanks for the warning, owlet." The older angel looked over and finally rested his eyes on Castiel. "You're right, I did come here with a purpose. As I usually do." As evidence, he vaguely gestured to the direction of the stained glass that depicted his arrival to announce that Mary would become the mother of Jesus. "Look, Cass," he sighed then, running his hand through his vessel's hair. "I understand what you're trying to do, but it's useless. It's not like you can surprise the old man, showing up where he doesn't expect it. If he doesn't want to be found, he won't be found. You've tried this before remember? You had no luck with it then, and you won't now."

For a moment the younger angel wondered if perhaps Gabriel had been sent by their Father to tell him to cease his searching.

"No, and I won't lie to you about this. Besides, I'd be the last of his kids he'd pick to do something like this." Gabriel smirked at his own realization. The runaway child would never be chosen to carry out the will of their Father.

"Perhaps not." Castiel added, not daring to say much more. He still heeded some semblance of authority that was inherent with any archangel.

"Whatever. What I'm saying is that you got to give this search up. You won't find him, and especially not in here." He waved both of his hands at the medieval chapel. "He didn't drop by here when it was new, and he's got no reason to now."

Castiel leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and staring ahead at the opposite wall. Again the theme of castles, painted in gold against a red background. His right hand rested over his left as his shoulders hunched to let his head hang down slightly. A question had been sitting with him since they had trapped Gabriel in the ring of fire in the warehouse some time ago, but he felt the weight of tarnishing his brother by asking.

"For the love of Dad, just spit it out! I can hear your teeth gnawing at that proverbial bone from across the English Channel!" Gabriel exclaimed, causing Castiel to toss a saddened scowl in his direction for upsetting his train of thought.

"Brother, why do you keep urging for the path of least resistance? Are you truly that tired?" He knew he was risking some "serious smitedown" as Dean might say, but he had to ask. He wasn't sure when the next time to speak to a brother or sister would arise.

"Woah kiddo, don't get all depressed on me now. Here", he heard his fingers snap, "pain au chocolat? Ain't no better place to get 'em." The flaky pastry was still warm as the archangel waved it in his peripheral vision.

"No, I'm fine. Brother-" he twisted around to see a small explosion of buttery flakes as the masquerading trickster bit down into the pastry.

"I know! One shheck…" his vessel's voice became muted as he finished chewing. "Cass, I'm exhausted. I've been on the run for centuries, and it'll be a Dad-sent miracle if I can keep up this ruse with the other gods much longer." He took a moment to lick his finger and pick up the flakes off his jacket before continuing. "Do you see where we are? Right now?"

Castiel glanced around, another frown marring the previous pensive expression.

"We're in Sainte-Chapelle."

Gabriel groaned and let his head fall back, smacking the painted ribbons on the wall.

"Clearly. I meant, what this place is. This is one of the many attempts to string a can-radio between Pops and the plebeians. We've listened, we've occasionally dropped by to carry out orders, but mostly we've watched. We've watched this place go to hell in a handbasket, and there is nothing to be done. It's time to hang up the gloves. Dad knew it was gonna happen. Get on board with the program!" With that, he continued to demolish the sweet pastry, quickly getting to the last bite. Chewing, he snapped his fingers to remove the last flakes. As his mouth was full, Castiel felt it wise to input his opinion at that moment, as it seemed to nearly always work with Dean.

"No, brother. This place here, it's an expression of hope: that these tiles, these pillars, windows and vaults will stand through time, through battle and not crumble." He stood suddenly, pacing the floor and disrupting the stillness. "It did not stand here for nearly eight centuries to be made into dust! The humans repair it, constantly, and care for its survival because they hope to keep living. It is the resistance against time, and against destiny." His pacing had led him to the altar, and he turned to see Gabriel regarding him thoughtfully from his seat.

Wordlessly, Gabriel moved from his reclining position and got up, striding towards his younger brother to stand right next to him, their arms brushing. Castiel started slightly, unnerved by an archangel so close him. Had it been any other, he would've suspected a silver blade to appear in hand.

"You got chops, kiddo. There's a reason they're paying attention to you upstairs." He remarked quietly, looking up at the gilded altar. "Still, so you're resisting, rebelling, whatever – why search for Dad?"

"Gabriel, when the Winchesters are not in need of my assistance, what better way to spend my time?" His brother's voice rang in his own hollow answer.

"Anything but this! Let's say, for the sake of argument, you did find Him? What then? What are the chances that whatever you asked for would actually be fulfilled? Let me tell you, owlet, the chances are slim!" Spinning away, he threw his hands in the air. "There's a better chance of Luci suddenly being cool with humanity! And to be honest, I don't see him mingling with the locals in a pool-bar, daiquiri in hand." The archangel's outburst finally quieted, and he thrust his hands in his pockets, looking away for a moment.

"He could once again control Heaven, His host, and-" Castiel's rejoinder was cut short.

"And what? Mikey is gonna back down? Not gonna care that the fight he's been psyching himself out for has been cancelled? And Dad's just gonna sit Luci down, clap a hand on his shoulder and tell him it's done and time to come home?" The sigh forced out of the shorter man sounded of defeat. "Cass, we're way past that."

His younger brother's silence took the fight out of the archangel and he reappeared next to him, nudging him with his elbow.

"You see that?" He gestured with his head towards the stained glass. "That's me, in my scene, as promised. The Annunciation, me doing what I do best." At Castiel's raised eyebrow he put up his hand in warning, "This is not a time for you and your newly formed opinions, kiddo. What I meant," he looked back up, "is that my original purpose was a messenger. Messenger of God. I'm a celestial telegram, in the cutest damn package you've ever seen."

"Brother…" patience worn thin, Castiel barely had the goodwill to glance up at the colorful pane.

"Just, this message isn't from Dad, but take it from someone who'd know what he'd say, alright? This can't be averted." Gabriel turned, grabbing both of Castiel's arms and forcing him to turn and look him in the eye. "I know you'll still search, cause that Winchester stubbornness is rubbing off on you, but just…be careful." For a few quiet seconds, the chapel faded into muted grandeur while the two angels held eye contact. As Castiel felt the warmth seeping through the sleeves of the trench coat, Gabriel gave a reassuring squeeze and stepped back.

While he studied the tile beneath his feet, the simple blossom with three petals in each corner of the square tile, the colors alternating between green and navy, he felt the familiar and welcomed pull of his charge's prayer. He turned towards the rose window, under which Gabriel stood and nodded to him. Castiel stood a moment more, taking in the admittedly beautiful chapel's golden glow a few seconds more before answering Dean's call.

He arrived in a motel parking lot, much like the dozens of other ones that the Winchester brothers had frequented. A thick morning mist added a chill distinctly different from the welcome coolness of the French chapel. The fog slept heavy on the lot and connecting road, but the silence was interrupted by Dean tossing a bag into the trunk, although his form was hidden by the raised door. Sam saw him first.

"Morning, Cass." He waved from across the car's roof with his free hand, the other occupied with a tray laden with coffee and a bag, probably containing some form of breakfast. Castiel wondered if they would've liked pastries fresh from Paris, but upon imagining Dean's reaction, he was glad it was an afterthought.

"Sam," he inclined his head, then turning to see and hear Dean close the trunk firmly but gently, never slamming it.

"Hey Cass!" The happiness in the older Winchester's voice never failed to bring out some sort of smile in the angel. "Thanks for showing."

"Good morning, Dean." Only they remained outside of the beloved Impala, Sam having already folded himself into the passenger seat. "Of course, what can I do for you?"

"Sammy found some case, well, we think it's a case, but I've never seen anything like it. Mind taking a look?" He had come around to the driver's seat, and the angel realized he stood between Dean and the door handle, and hastily moved out of the way at the expectant look on his charge's face.

"Of course, I'd be glad to." And before Dean could open the door, Castiel had reappeared in the backseat, startling Sam. The angel didn't see Dean roll his eyes as he leaned into the frame of the car before he slid into the driver's seat.

"Sammy, give him the file." Dean said, gently turning the key, bringing the car to life. Sam made some sort of face, probably irritated at having his work taken away from him combined with Dean not chastising Castiel for surprising him. "Sammy." The gentle warning tone caused the younger brother to acquiesce, turning to hand the angel the file.

The car pulled out of the parking lot, and both brothers sipped at their coffee, Dean choosing to grab the paper bag and deposit it in his lap. Sam made a reach for it and Dean smacked his hand away. Castiel only partially listened to the back and forth between them, as he had just had his own with his older brother. Neither Winchester brother saw the surprised smile that briefly graced the angel's face, as their banter wasn't so far from his own.

'Perhaps', he thought, 'they are not meant to model the celestial brothers Michael and Lucifer, but in fact an entirely different set of brothers'. Castiel continued to muse on this, choosing to keep it quiet, as Dean wouldn't appreciate the comparison between himself and Gabriel.

They drove through the dewy morning, Sam crunching on his apple that Dean had thrown at him as it was preventing him from reaching his breakfast burrito. File in hand, Castiel suddenly looked up. Dean caught his glance in the rearview mirror and somehow around the wrap he was taking a bite of, managed to ask what was up.

"Hmm?" Half of the angel's mind was back in the French chapel.

"I asked, what's up? You recognize something in the file?" He had swallowed the food by then.

"Oh," Castiel felt suddenly guilty, he had barely skimmed the information before him, having been distracted by his recent conversation with Gabriel. "No, I'm sorry Dean, I haven't."

The brothers shared a look across the front seat. Sam took this one, turning around to face the angel. The concern that flitted across his features warmed Castiel, and Dean was checking the rearview mirror every few seconds, trying to decipher the seraph in the backseat.

"So…" Sam began, "what's on your mind?" He was trying to gently coax an answer from the taciturn angel. A few seconds of silence passed. Finally Castiel appeared ready to speak and he could tell the brothers were itching for whatever he had to say.

"Do you think I look like an owlet?"