Heaven's 11
The Angels on guard looked at one another in puzzlement. They had definitely heard a noise in the golden hall leading to the Vaults door, but they could detect nothing. They both nodded silently to each other and drew their blades, moving slowly forward away from the door. The scanned left and right carefully with each step, regarding every shadow and corner with great scrutiny.
They reached the end of the hall, which was basically an armored gate and inspected the entrance, looking around the edges and lock for signs of a break-in. There was nothing. Finally, they nodded at each other once again, shrugged slightly and sheathed their blades, turning back to return to their posts.
A figure stood in the middle of the hallway. The Angels squinted as the figure glowed, blurring his features. They could see, however, that he was grinning widely.
"Hello boys...", the figure said evenly, raising his hand. There was a flash of white energy and the two Angels vanished, the shout of alarm too late.
The figure dropped his hand and turned towards the Vault door, whistling softly to himself as he walked. He stopped in the hallway and pulled something out a backpack that he wore, using it to draw on the side of the wall. He examined his work and, satisfied, continued towards the Vault door. The door itself was a massive stone slab, with no discernible handle or opening mechanism. It was set seamlessly into the hallway. On its face were hundreds of carved Angelic glyphs, arranged neatly in rows.
He reached the door and slowly, tentatively, almost reverently stretched his hand out and traced his fingers over the Angel glyphs in a specific pattern. Each glyph began to glow blue as he finished with them, until seven of them were glowing. He smiled as the door began to slide aside.
The inside of the Vault itself was silent, but the energy radiating off of the objects of power inside made the air hum. Shelves, plinths, armor and weapon racks lined every corner of the interior, which was wall-to-wall white marble, thick golden veins running through every block. A diffused light source covered everything, coming from an unseen source.
The figure stopped and looked from side to side, scanning the room, also glancing back over his shoulder to ensure that no other Angels were coming. Satisfied, he nodded to himself and pulled out a small scroll.
He flipped it one way, then another, looking up at the Vault, orienting himself to the layout. He nodded once again and shoved the scroll back into his pocket, striding quickly towards a golden cabinet in the corner.
He reached his target, and with one more look over his shoulder, opened the stained glass doors carefully.
Inside was a golden book. A large clasp held it closed. The figure reached inside and picked it up with both hands, exhaling a bit at the weight of the large tome. When it was fully out, he whipped his backpack around from his shoulder and shoved it quickly inside. He zipped it closed and adjusted it, moving rapidly towards the Vaults door as he did so.
He frowned as he saw that the door was closing. He quickly turneds his head back towards the cabinet and saw that a small sigil carved into it was flashing red. He let out a small curse and ran for the Vaults door.
He skidded to a stop just outside of it and looked up at the dozen Angels that had responded to the silent alarm. They were bearing down on him with blades drawn.
He straightened up and raised his hands in the air.
"Sorry, fellas, but...too late," he said, grinning widely and slapping his palm against the symbol he had drawn on the wall before.
"No!," screamed the Angel at the front of the group as the symbol began to activate. Then his eyes went wide in shock as he began to transport away, recognition blazing in them.
"You...?!", the Angel uttered in disbelief as he and the rest of the guards flashed away.
The figure watched the spot where the Angels had stood and let out a sigh of relief.
"Yeah...me," he said, smiling to himself almost sadly. He opened the gate leading out and whistled again to himself. "And; I'm sorry to say, that's the last you'll be seeing of me, boys."
"Perfect timing," Crowley growled in a low whisper as he crouched behind a perfectly trimmed green hedge standing right before Heavens Gates. "We need to have perfect timing."
Dean and Sam looked at him and shook their heads simultaneously.
"Yeah, no kidding, Crowley," Dean whispered back angrily. "Unlike the other hundred times you told us that."
Crowley ignored him and stared intently at the Gates, sweat covering his forehead.
"You OK?", Sam whispered after a few seconds.
Crowley turned his head on him. "No, of course I'm not bloody OK!" he hissed angrily, his voice just above a whisper. "A Demon has never, and I mean, never in terms of the history of the universe, just walked through that damnable Gate, so no, Moose, I am very, very far from OK!"
He sighed as Sam nodded and looked back at the Gate. "Just...remember...", he began.
"Yeah, perfect timing, got it," Sam finished, grasping his hex bag tightly in his fist and sprinting forward at the Gate in a crouch.
They each held a myriad assortment of the bags and their skin was covered in sigils and wards. Everything possible to keep them from being detected by the Angels.
Dean ran after them, Crowley following, craning his head around the entire way, as if expecting a horde of Angels to descend on them at any moment.
The reached the other side and ducked into a garden, one of the several that lined the main road that ran past the Gates.
Crowley, already breathing hard, sat down heavily and managed a wan smile. He looked around again and pulled out a small scroll, on which a map of the general layout of Heavens palaces was illustrated. He located the Gate quickly and traced his finger towards a very large building circled in red.
"So, here's the Vault, in this modest little building," Crowley whispered, stuffing the map back into his pocket. "Not that far away. I've got to say, this has gone far more easily than I expected. We might actually get away with this." He stood up, smiling, brushing his suit off and lightly shaking his head. He looked at Sam and Dean, who were saying nothing, just staring behind him.
"What?", Crowley asked slowly, watching them carefully. "Oh...bugger...."
He turned around and his shoulders dropped when he saw the thirty or so Angels standing in the gardens field, regarding them cooly.
He raised his hands in the air slowly.
"Would it help if I told you that it was your future boss that sent us?", Crowley asked.
The lead Angel stepped forward. "If you will come with us please?", she asked cordially, a tight smile on her face. It was not a request.
They were searched, pockets emptied and their equipment seized before being lead into one of the larger palaces. The Angels kept a very tight circle around them the entire way. Sam and Dean looked around in awe at the architecture – pillars seemingly reached into infinity, windows were set in intricate stained glass, doors were made of shining gold. Crowley shook his head.
"I need to reconsider my profit margins," he grumbled, mostly to himself, as he regarded a marble statue depicting Michael casting out Lucifer, set on a flat circular dais of pure gold. "Looks like the real money is in worship after all."
The Angels took them to a large library, most of them staying behind at the door. Around ten of them continued inside, surrounding Crowley and the Winchesters.
In the middle of the library was a large wooden desk, and seated at it were three Angels, who looked up in expectation as they were brought forward. The one in the center of the table stood up.
"Have a seat," he indicated gruffly, holding out his hand at three chairs that were waiting for them on the other side of the table.
Sam, Dean and Crowley looked at each other briefly and slowly sat down. The Angels watched them cooly, not a shred of emotion in their eyes.
"Soooo..." Crowley began, looking up, staring straight into the eyes at the Angel that had spoken to them. "How much trouble are we in, exactly?"
The lead Angel met his gaze and finally cocked his head. "That all depends, Demon."
"Name's Crowley," Crowley answered quickly. "No need to start off this meeting on the wrong foot, after all. Or wing, if you will. And you are?"
The Angel frowned in obvious disgust and looked away.
"Hm. Rude much?", Crowley grinned.
The Angel turned back quickly.
"My name is of no consequence to one such as you, Demon," the Angel answered angrily.
One of the Angels at the table cleared his throat.
"Please, there is no reason to be hostile here," he said evenly. "The Demon...er...Crowley...is simply introducing himself."
"There's a Demon sitting here in the Halls of Heaven, Astriel", the first Angel spat out, rising from his chair and pointing at Crowley angrily. "And you don't believe there's a cause for hostility?!"
Astriel regarded his fellow Angel cooly. "No, Issiah, I don't believe that there is. Unless you actually feel threatened by these three. Do we need to bring in some more guards for you?"
Issiah glared furiously at Astriel, but sat back down without saying another word. He did not look back in Crowley's direction, however, instead staring petulantly at the table.
Astriel sighed. "As you can see, unfortunately, we are not all of the same opinion as to what to do with you here at the Council of Heaven."
"Seems about par for the course for you guys to me," Dean said sarcastically, smiling at Astriel.
Astriel tilted his head. "Yes, I'm afraid we are a...rudderless ship. And we have been for quite some time."
"You could also say that those two are to blame for that," the third Angel spoke up, glaring at Sam and Dean.
"Great, another fan..." Dean grumbled.
"I am called Obadiah, ape, and you will address me with respect!", the Angel practically yelled, moving around the table towards Dean. Dean and Sam stood up.
"Stop it, all of you!", came a voice from the library. Another Angel came forward, glancing from one to the other. Obadiah's anger vanished in the blink of an eye. He bowed his head and returned to his seat, head down.
The other Angel was a woman with red hair, a severely cut business suit, and carried herself with an unmistakable air of absolute authority.
"And who might we be?", Crowley asked squinting. "You're an Archangel, aren't you? My, my...aren't you an endangered species?
The Angel ignored him, moving to the head of the table and resting her palms flat on its surface.
She looked at Sam and Dean, deliberately avoiding Crowley.
"I am, in fact, the last of the Archangels remaining here in Heaven. And believe me, I would prefer to return to my solitude rather than have to try to regulate...this," she said, waving her hand in obvious disgust around her. "My name is Suriel."
Crowley narrowed his eyes. "The recluse? Well, things must really be the proverbial crap-storm up here to actually manage to draw you out of your basement."
Suriel finally turned towards Crowley. "And what would you know of my desire for solitude, Demon? For millennia I held the power of the primordial elements, carried the mantle of Death himself for the hosts of Heaven. Not even Michael was mightier than I." She sighed, shoulders slumping.
"When Father left...I was already so tired...was I to take on the role of God as well?" She straightened up, her jaw set. "I was not created for that. No Angel was. So, rather than throw my hat into this ring of civil unrest, I retired. But yes, rather than seeing the entirety of Heaven ripped apart by the current state of squabbling and infighting, I chose to return, temporarily. At least until Castiel has completed his mission." At this last, she gave a hard look at Obadiah and Issiah, who made a point to keep staring at the table. "Because no matter whom here will accept having Castiel in charge or not, it is Fathers will." She looked up at Sam, Dean and Crowley. "Yes, I am well aware of all of the details of Chuck Shurleys prophecy as well. We are not exactly blind in Heaven to these events."
An Angel that was with the group that had escorted them to the library from the garden stepped forward, dumping Sam, Dean and Crowleys equipment, maps and packs on the table in front of Suriel.
"They had this on them when we captured them," he said quietly.
She sighed heavily and sat down. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temple with one hand, her elbow resting on the table.
"So, what is it exactly that you're here to steal?", Suriel asked, sounding tired.
Crowley looked at Sam and Dean, who both shrugged.
"Well, since you have already seemingly divined our purpose...", Crowley began, breaking off as Suriel gave a loud, exasperated sigh, slapping her hand on the table and glaring at him.
"...the Register of Heaven," Crowley hurriedly finished, gulping.
Suriels eyes widened and she shared a look with her fellow Council members. She nodded knowingly.
"What do you need the Register for?" she finally asked simply after considering Crowleys answer for a while.
"There's an Angel we need to find. One that's hiding, so...standard summoning will do no good."
Suriels eyes narrowed. "Standard summoning is more than enough to bring an Angel to you, Crowley...as you are well aware. Please tell me, then, which Angel exactly are you trying to summon?"
Crowley looked down at the table. He looked back up. "Fine. Gabriel. We're trying to find Gabriel."
Suriel nodded, not looking surprised. "So, Castiel as well does not believe the rumors of Gabriels death." She did not wait for a response, standing up, clasping her hands behind her back and striding away from the table. She turned back slowly.
"Gentlemen, I am afraid I cannot help you, you see, because the Register of Heaven has already been stolen."
Crowley stood up. "What? How? When?"
Suriel met his eyes firmly. "Just recently. Taken directly out of the Vault."
Crowley sat down heavily, eyes disbelieving. Sam sighed and Dean shook his head.
Finally, Sam raised his head. "Do you have any idea who took it? Maybe we can get it back."
Suriel met his eyes directly, her cold, blue eyes steady and unblinking.
"We actually do have a witness. We know exactly who took it."
"Who?", Sam asked, his voice dry.
"Gabriel," Suriel answered calmly, turning away from them and walking into the library.