Less than Angelic
I know this is terribly short, however it seemed appropriate for a prologue and like a good stopping point. As always I don't own anything other than my original character and any original plot.
Every angel in heaven and on earth felt it when a soul was taken from hell. Angels especially took notice when it was a soul as infamous as Dean Winchester's. The shock wave shook the earth, sending ripples of power around all corners. A few hundred miles out near the middle of the Indian Ocean, the ripples caused some slight waves in the previously still waters, disturbing a small form that was floating peacefully. A pale head with dark hair plastered to the sides of a decidedly feminine face lifted slightly and turned towards the West where the power originated. Slightly chapped pink lips curled into a smile before relaxing the muscles in her neck and allowing the water to once again take charge of her body.
"What are you up to now Father..?" her voice broke the silence as her eyelids fell shut, not bothering to look for an answer when she knew she wouldn't receive one. The thought of investigating what was happening on the opposite side of the world crossed her mind, but in that moment, she was far too content with the waters around her to make the journey.
It was beautiful. The way each organism in the sea below her and in the sky above her went through their short existence in perfect harmony. Even with her eyes closed, she could sense the life energy of everything around her. She could read each pulse every living thing gave off with every motion it went through. The algae turning the sun's pure energy into usable life, the small multitude of organisms most no larger than the nail on her smallest finger eating the algae, the fish in turn…
Her contentment and awareness was interrupted once more by another ripple of what could only be holy energy. This time the thin lines of hair above her eyes furrowed in confusion. As her eyes opened once more she realized in her appreciation of the life around her time had once again slipped away. Day had turned to night and was approaching morning once more. With the rising sun she was painfully aware of a lower angel attempting to speak in his true form on the mortal plane. The enochian language rang like the bells humans often had chiming in their churches through her mind, even from such a far distance she had no problem understanding the message.
Dean Winchester had returned, and Heaven had a mission for him.
Perhaps it was time to leave the wonders of the ocean behind, at least for a little while. It had been centuries since she had last walked among her Father's creations. It sounded like things were about to change, it would be a pity to miss anything. Thus, with a splash and a flutter of feathers, she was gone leaving the wide expanse of ocean seemingly empty once more.