Fix You

Every day I think I'm going more and more insane from everything that's been going on. I'm used to weird frigging stuff, but we can't find anything to explain what's been happening. The headaches, the loud random noises, the nausea, the weird dreams… None of it makes any sense. Sammy and I have looked literally everywhere and we can't find a damn thing to explain any of it. There's nothing in the Journal, Ellen and Jo have no frigging clue—they say they've never seen anything like this before. Even Ash has got no idea.

Another weird thing: has the moon always been this bright?

Prologue

The walls were blank, white-washed surfaces reminiscent of such a nondescript nature that they almost appeared to fade away as time passed. Everything from the marble-tiled floor to the gleaming aluminum chairs screamed of an anal-retentive cleanliness. Coupled with a screaming sort of silence, the place felt more like a morgue than an office.

Castiel itched to escape. He felt imprisoned by the dauntingly cool seat beneath him and the sterilized atmosphere around him. Michael's office was quite possibly his least favorite room to be in, and he was forced there every few days to report to his equally sanitized boss.

However, today, none of that much mattered. There were far more pressing matters than the oppressive lack of decor around him: such things as could not be damped by something so trivial. In fact, Castiel found himself so excited that he could hardly sit in his characteristically militaristic pose. The only thing keeping him still was the gravity of what lay before him, and how vital professionalism was in the process.

It didn't help that Michael was taking his time shuffling through the Greek city of papers on his desk. Castiel had to physically restrain himself so that he wouldn't wiggle around in his seat in excitement while he waited. After what seemed like days (which it might well have been considering the subjective nature of time in Heaven), Michael pulled a stack of documents together and dropped them in front of the anxious angel.

"Looks like you have everything here," Michael noted, collapsing his fingers upon one another on the desk. "That should include affirmations for all of your previous tasks and a summary of your final objectives in this case."

Rifling through the papers, Castiel only half-listened while Michael ranted about the Finale of his training. For eons Castiel had worked toward this, the single goal that all angels under Heaven moved toward. All of the hours spent in preparation for the Finale, his last and greatest triumph, were about to come to fruition. He'd watched so many of his brothers emerge victorious before him, and now he finally had his chance to bask in the same glow.

To him, it didn't matter who he was assigned for the Guardianship. No one on earth could be harder to coerce into the position than Zachariah's charge, or take as long to gather as Metatron's. From the look of the papers, it seemed as though he'd only be dealing with a single human. Not even bothering to look at the name, Castiel directed his attention back at his eldest brother. Michael was just finishing with a very bland congratulations and run-through of Castiel's previous qualifications.

"—seems that everything is finally coming together, Castiel," he finished with Michael's impressively fake smile. "Are you ready to talk about your charge?"

Castiel had been waiting since the conception of dirt to receive this particular test from Heaven. "Of course."

"Excellent," Michael responded without removing his plastered-on grin. "Let's get right to it then. If you would retrieve the document containing your Guardian charge."

Through the heap of papers containing his entire life—it was uncomfortable this his existence boiled down to a single folder of spreadsheets and notes—Castiel pulled out a pale blue file embellished with the title: Guardian Class 07AB9: Classified.

"The Guardian Counsel spent a substantial amount of time considering who they would assign to you, Castiel. As you know, you are a very…special candidate for the position of Archangel," Michael said, choosing his words as carefully as God chose his prophets. "What with the means by which you have completed some of your previous tests. The Four think that this particular human will make a wonderful Guardian and an interesting challenge."

"What will his center be?" Castiel asked.

Nearly since he'd been introduced into the notion of candidacy, Castiel wondered what sort of Guardian his would be. Something along the lines of Wisdom or Creativity, he hoped.

"We'll go over that in a moment," Michael assured Castiel, pulling the blue sheet up to eye-level.

He leafed through the packet briefly, as though he would have forgotten something within the past few minutes. Still, in all his agitation, all of his impatience, Castiel sat obediently and perfectly still. Barely even daring to breathe incorrectly, Castiel waited and listened while Michael reviewed his Guardian charge.

"Dean Winchester will certainly be a fitting charge for you, Castiel," he said cryptically. "Now, let's go over the basics of your mission here.

"As with everything, Castiel, your Guardian case is very unique. To begin with, you aren't to know the center of your charge. Part of your mission includes discovering what that muse might be, so that is quite unusual."

Castiel nodded, though inside his excitement gave way to something more akin to angst. He'd never heard of an angel not knowing the center of their Guardian before. In all of history, The Guardian's center was generally a selling-point an angel utilized to prepare and motivate his future superhuman. Castiel would have to rethink his strategy…But he refused to be disheartened.

Ever since completing his first task, oddities seemed to follow Castiel's career wherever he want. There was no reason why he should be any less successful here, or why he should lose his head over something so trivial.

"There's just one final thing I need to tell you before I allow you to begin preparing your human for bonding," Michael continued blandly. "You will be working alongside another angel."

Still no need for panic. "Who?"

"Gabriel."

Castiel nearly lost it there. Going absolutely rigid in his seat, Castiel felt dread seep through his veins like venom from a snake.

Gabriel was Michael's youngest immediate brother: that is, the last member of his wing order. He'd been an Archangel nearly as long as Michael had, but always managed to find trouble and lose his status. If Castiel was the Heavenly misfit, Gabriel was an outright pariah. Most of the angels avoided him whenever possible to circumvent being caught in the crosshairs of his mischief. Among those in Heaven, he'd earned the nickname "The Trickster". No really liked him and no one respected him at all.

"Gabriel?" Castiel asked, forcing his voice into an unconcerned neutrality. "Didn't he already have a Guardian?"

"I suppose it wouldn't surprise you to hear that his charge has Fallen," Michael stated.

"Azazel has Fallen?" Castiel asked, feigning surprise.

"He has," Michael confirmed. "The Counsel has assigned him the other Winchester brother, Samuel."

Something in Castiel's mind illuminated his memory at that name. Why he hadn't realized it before eluded him—perhaps because he was so used to hearing their names in conjunction with one another—but suddenly he recognized what he was going to be involved in.

In all of Heaven, Hell, and Earth, the Winchester brothers were the two most coveted humans of modern history. Their profound bond made them formidable hunters unrivaled among men. Having them chosen as Guardians was not only fitting, but almost necessary in order to keep them from the clutches of Lucifer and his demons where they would provide nerve-wracking tension. Perhaps the boys' prestige would temper Gabriel enough to make him bearable to work with.

Castiel didn't hold his breath.

"The Winchester brothers will be good additions to the Guardians," Castiel noted, suddenly itching to get out of Michael's office.

"Yes they will. I think that's all of the information I have for you for now," Michael noted with a relieving air of finality in his voice. "If you have any questions during your process, report back to the Counsel. Otherwise, good luck and may God give speed to your wings."

"Yes sir," Castiel replied, bowing himself out of the room laden with the files of his accomplishments.

Bolting from the room, Castiel flew from Michael's office to his favorite haunt: the Garden. Tended by the Archangel Joshua, the Garden provided privacy and peace when Castiel wanted to be alone. Joshua was a kind angel, with a deceivingly homely facade. Succeeding his Archangel coronation, Joshua had returned to the Garden he so loved despite the tradition for becoming commander of one of the Heavenly garrisons. To compensate, Joshua had become the coordinator between Heaven and God. If one wished to speak with the Father, Joshua interceded as translator. Otherwise, he quietly cared for the flora and fauna within the Garden and stayed out of Heavenly affairs.

Today, because Castiel found himself in an exceptionally good mood, he came upon the Garden in the form of a vibrant, flourishing tropical landscape. Finding a particularly soft patch of moss under a Durian tree, Castiel seated himself and began to sift through Dean Winchester's file.

The Guardians had obviously spent an impressive amount of time crafting the profile. Due to his dual fame and infamy, Dean was already fairly well-known to Castiel. For the time being, he decided to entertain himself with trying to figure out what Dean's center might be.

His first instinct was loyalty. Dean stayed true to his family above anything else: they were the center of his moral compass. Unfortunately, a Guardian of loyalty already existed, and he was Anna's charge.

So, loyalty was out. Courage was another likely candidate considering the number of times he willingly walked out into harm's way, but that couldn't be the case either since Mer—

"Having fun, little bro?" a snide voice called from directly to Castiel's right.

Starting a bit in his surprise, Castiel looked up from his musings to find Gabriel leaning casually against a long-dead tree stump with a smirk plastered on his face.

"I hear we're going to be seeing a lot of each other these days," he continued when Castiel said nothing in response. "I suppose we'll have to learn how to play nice."

"Gabriel, I've worked far too long and far too hard to have my status taken away by your games," Castiel said heatedly, standing up so he could look his brother straight in the eyes.

Throwing his hands up in mock surrender, Gabriel widened his sneer.

"I'm not planning on ruining your little ceremony, okay?" he assured the younger angel. "It'd be a waste of my time anyway. Do you know how many times I've been through this? You should be happy to have a veteran like me around to guide you along."

"What made your charge fall?" Castiel asked, gathering up his papers and preparing to get away from Gabriel as soon as he could.

"Azazel? Toasted some woman on a ceiling," Gabriel shrugged, returning to his previous position.

Castiel froze. "He isn't the one who killed the Winchester's mother?"

"The very same," Gabriel replied without the slightest bit of remorse. "Ironic, isn't it?"

Castiel felt physically ill. The idea that Gabriel spoke so nonchalantly of the tragic event that had held heaven on its edge for nearly five years sickened him to his stomach. How Gabriel had ever managed to become an Archangel in first place was completely beyond Castiel.

"How can you be so careless about them?" Castiel demanded, daring to look into Gabriel's golden eyes. "We are meant to protect them, to guide them."

"Trust me, when you've seen and heard as much of them as I have, you begin to understand that they're not all they're cracked up to be," Gabriel replied cynically.

"Then why try?"

Gabriel didn't seem to have an answer. He simply shrugged and began to pick at a spot underneath the nail on his left index finger, as though he'd grown bored with Castiel. Completely dumbfounded and frustrated at this point, Castiel gathered his belongings gave the most noncommittal bow to his elder he'd ever attempted.

"I need to prepare for bonding," Castiel muttered, needing an excuse to leave his normally safe haven and be away from Gabriel.

Walking swiftly, Castiel hastened away from the tree stump and from the other angel as quickly as he could. He didn't even care that he was being rude, or that he could have probably tried harder to befriend the angel he'd be spending the next several years with. At the moment, nothing mattered other than the horrible images of carnage racing through Castiel's mind: the fire, the burning of human flesh, the panicked look on John's face as he watched his wife burst into flames…

It was too much for Castiel to handle. The task before him now seemed less like a final stepping stone and more like a boulder he would have to hurdle over with a pack of rabid Hellhounds chasing after him. Perhaps the Guardianship wouldn't be as easy as he'd previously expected it to be.

In spite of his apprehension, an image crystalized in his eyes beyond the flames of death ever consuming Mary Winchester. A black Chevy Impala, where Dean would be listening to ACDC while Sam checked them out of the last crappy hotel they'd found to stay in. His agitation eased, and he found that breathing was less laborious as he focused on that single image.

Nothing mattered other than achieving this final leg of the marathon he'd been running for so long. Gabriel's attitude was something Castiel would learn to work around. Dean Winchester was his Finale, and God willing, as Castiel flew away from the Garden and into the ethereal expanse of Heaven, he swore that he was going to finish with a bang. No more mistakes, no more accidents, no more screw-ups on his part. He would make Dean Winchester a Guardian.

Or he would be dragged through Hell by the wings trying.