A/N: This is a continuation of my Joan of Arc storyline. I don't own Supernatural. I don't own Joan of Arc, God, or any other heavenly beings. Points go to the person who guesses where I got the vision ideas from.

"Damn it!"

Joan of Arc talked to God. That is, if talking to God meant splitting headaches with messages attached that no amount of whiskey would wash away. Tonight was no different. Time, place, orders. She had to follow. She always had. Joan didn't question God. She knew what happened to the schmucks who did.

When she reached her destination she was surprised. It was a deserted house outside of town. Nondescript, ordinary. Hell, it was downright boring. But she approached the steps cautiously. God's messages didn't always make sense, but they usually led to trouble. She drew her knife as she approached the door. It opened with a creak, causing her to jump back a foot and squeak.

A man walked out, as ordinary as the house. He was young-ish, but looked tired. His beard was unkempt and his button-down shirt hung off him like he hadn't gotten enough to eat. In spite of his worn (and let's face it, drunk) appearance, Joan recognized him.

"Chuck?" she said. "Chuck Shurley?"
"Yeah," he said, warily. "Who are you?"

Joan caught him glancing at the knife and put it away.

"Joan," she said. "He sent me."
"Ah," Chuck said. "Yes, He said he was going to send someone."
"Why am I here?" Joan asked.
"A retrieval mission," Chuck said. "He needs you go pick someone up."

Joan stared at him incredulously.

"You kidding?" she said. "I'm a fighter, not a babysitter. Exactly who am I supposed to look after. Not the Winchesters. No freaking way-"
It's not the Winchesters," Chuck said, pushing his hair back nervously. "It's Castiel."

Joan gasped, and backed up a little.

"Cas? But he's dead."

The prophet shook his head.

"Not dead," he said. "Brought back."
"The Hell?" Joan said. "How?"

Chuck shrugged.

"Word of the Big Man. He wants him back."
"But why am I to retrieve him?" Joan asked.
"Have you ever questioned his will before?" Chuck asked.
"No," Joan said. She was ranting at this point, pacing across the porch. "But this is Castiel. I got kicked out of Heaven because of him. I was sentenced to an eternity on Earth because of supposed 'inappropriate feelings' for my handler. He did nothing to defend me when Uriel had me booted. And he wants me to retrieve him? What crap is that? Why would he ask that of me?"

Chuck fidgeted and sighed.

"He had nothing to do with that and you know it. He was gone at that point."

Joan laughed derisively.

"He's an omnipotent being. A creator. You'd think he would've done something to stop his angels screwing over one of his soldiers on some trumped-up charge."
"Joan, it was over 100 years ago," Chuck said.
"I'm 600 years old, Chuck," Joan replied. "One century is nothing. Look, I'm not going to argue about this. He's my General and I'll do as He asks. But after this I need a break."
"Ok," he said.
"I'm not quitting," she added. "I just need to go back to New Orleans and figure stuff out. I can continue the good fight from the sidelines."
"Agreed," Chuck said.
"And I'll be there for those boys if they need me," Joan said. "Even with Cas back he'll be out of commission. Hell, he declared himself a deity. He's going to need help, and guidance, and support, and-"
"Joan! It's fine. He trusts that you'll do the right thing. You just need to do this."

Joan nodded, turned, and walked down the steps. Chuck called after her.

"Joan." She turned. "It isn't wrong to love him, you know."

Joan smiled, and nodded.

"Loving him wasn't the problem," she said. "It was never knowing if he ever loved me."

She walked toward her car. When she reached the door, she stopped and turned back.

"It's nice to see you again, Sir," she said. "I dig the disguise. No one would ever suspect."

Chuck grinned a little.

"That's kind of the idea."

Joan got in the car, and started the engine. When she looked back up to the porch, Chuck was gone.