Hello! I don't know if anyone will read this but it is for your enjoyment as well as mine! I will try to update at least once a week for this until it is done but no promises. I have work and school and stuff. So I'll leave this here for you and Please Enjoy! :)

Prologue

Metatron sat in Naomi's chair hands behind his head, feet up on the desk, and a smile on his face. He leaned back in the chair while heaving a contented sigh. It was finally quiet, not the oppressive hush of enforced calm, just blissful silence. No garbled voices in his head, no commands, no nothing, just peace and quiet for the first time in thousands of years.

It was almost too much. Metatron decided as he dropped his feet to the floor to stand up. The silence seemed to crowd around him as he walked out of the office and down the hall to wander around the hallways. Each turn around a corner lead him deeper and deeper into the central workings of Heaven. He passed hall after hall lined with doors, each with a different enochian symbol to represent a different heaven. He passed by without a glance. He walked farther and farther, past a training room filled with everything any soldier would want to use, a shooting range where Virgil had begun to teach angels how to shoot, dozens of rooms that looked like dorms just without beds, rooms with couches and armchairs…on and on, each room, each hall held a memory for him, some good some bad but all of family, his family. After walking for what seemed like hours he turned a corner and found himself in a long stone worked hallway filled with a few wooden doors and lit with torches.

"Ah…My home…" Metatron said with a smile. The first door on the left was his. As he leaned his head against the wood he could see the paper strewn all over the floor, his notes pasted all over the walls, and the books stacked everywhere. He smiled at the memory before lifting his head and moving on. He passed other doors each marked with the symbol of the Archangels. One was sealed tight with sigils carved haphazardly into the wood like a hand of grief had scarred the door permanently. Metatron recognized the anguish ridden scrawl of Michael and remembered the day he had come back from throwing Lucifer, his little brother, into the pit of hell.

"Michael what are you doing?!"

"Get out of my way Gabriel! He chose this!"

"Please brother, don't do this!"

"It's already done, Raphael!"

"Michael, stop!"

"LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Metatron shook his head to clear it before moving on. Memories were more painful here near the heart of heaven. He walked past more and more doors and marveled at how many angels there really were, before the wars, before Castiel decimated their ranks…

He suddenly stopped walking and turned to the right. He studied the door carefully. All the doors in this section of heaven were exactly the same size, color, everything. The only differences between the doors were the names written in enochian. This one, however, was warded with old angelic sigils. One burned deep into the wood on the door, others carved carefully in the stone around the doorway.

These were older than Naomi or any other angel. None of them would know the sigils except for the archangels and himself. Metatron touched the sigil on the door and felt the power radiate from within the room. These sigils were all designed to keep whatever was in the room inside. In the corner of the door a small inscription was carved into the wood.

"Do not open this door. Inside is a monster God never meant to be born." He read out loud. "Hmmm…This door was created less than five years ago. Not as much dust has settled on it like the others…I wonder…"

The handle turned smoothly in his palm. The door opened quietly, dust clouding up softly, to reveal a pitch black interior. Light shafted into the room illuminating a small pale white hand with a black shackle encircling its wrist. Hellish symbols and wards, known only to a few angels and the oldest demons, were carved into the iron.

"Angel sigils and demon wards…This stinks of Archangels and their names are Michael and Raphael…" He muttered. The arm suddenly twitched before swiftly retracting itself back into the shadows. Metatron grabbed a torch from the wall and walked into the room. The firelight fell on a small huddled figure curled in the corner. He sucked in a sharp breath as he got closer and saw what it was.

"Holy mother of dad…A fledgling." He said looking at a little dark blonde girl clothed in a white robe with small black downy feathered wings that barely covered her body clutching around herself in fear.

"What are you doing here, little one?" She snapped her head up at the question revealing pitch black eyes.

"Whoa…" He said walking forward to get a better look. "A demon?"

The child shrank back pressing herself into the corner until she couldn't go any further and made a very human whimpering noise. The little girl blinked clearing the darkness from her eyes to reveal a bright blue the exact shade of Castiel's.

"Oh ho, Castiel what have you been doing?" Metatron asked a dark smile playing around his lips as he approached her. "Have you been hording a kid up here?"

She whimpered again looking terrified as he simply knelt down and undid one shackle, then the other.

"I'm not going to hurt you little one. Let's just get a look at you."

He lifted her up onto her feet and simply watched her watching him. Finally he saw what he had been looking for, somewhere along the jaw…in the nose…and her dark blonde hair.

"You look like that Winchester boy…hmmmm…I wonder." Metatron said snapping his fingers. The manacles sprang back onto her wrists and tightened down. She whimpered again as he rolled up one of his sleeves.

"I know I said I wouldn't hurt you but one thing I guess you understand about angels already is…we lie…"