The night was cold, moonlight shining upon the armor clad men that laid upon the ground in their canvas tents as they laid to rest for the night. They had been away from their homes for three months now, and the men knew they would be away from their homes for many more, perhaps even years. They knew not of their true mission, but that is was an act of God's will to crusade across the lands of Europe and convert the people who roamed the lands of the one true god, the one that blessed them with life and gave them his one and only son so that they may be saved from original sin. Fires licked at the air as they swallowed the oxygen that bore them life in the abyss of the night that crept the dusk like a snake crawled across the earth upon it's belly. The exhausted men sat around these many embers, telling tales of home to their fellow soldiers. They ate and drank at their victory of the battle they had fought the night before, blood shed upon the innocent twilight that they had stormed, while others mourned their fallen comrades. One soldier in particular preferred to sit alone, away from the camp. His dark hair and piercing blue eyes cut through the fragile vale of the night, standing watch to ambushes of the crusaders.

"I know you are there brother, you may show yourself." He didn't even move his gaze as a male in a white tunic appeared before the man.

"Hello brother, I see that the crusade is going well?" the stranger with the glowing halo upon his blonde crown said with a somewhat smug smirk. His wings glowed with what could only be described or compared to the finest threads of gold. All six of them out stretched and shining with holy light, but the man knew only his eyes could bare witness to their grace.

"It is going as ordered to, but I still have doubt Gabriel, why would father wish for the slaughtering of his people? Why would father order upon his creations to command his existence upon the pagans who have done nothing wrong?" The man questioned Gabriel, messenger of God and one of the archangels.

Gabriel slumped his shoulders and his lips curled into a scowl, "Are you questioning our father's commands, Castiel? Have you no faith?" Gabriel watched him with his angelic stare, piercing through Castiel's mind.

The man who was named Castiel perked up and stood, retaliating, "I have faith in our father, yes, but this, this is not the work of any father of mine." He bit the inside of his cheek, holding in his anger of the accusation of treason . "I love our father just as much as you Gabriel, but doesn't this seem unlike father?"

"Are you forgetting the great flood, Castiel? The one that nearly wiped the human race extinct? If Noah had no faith in our father as the other humans, he to would be swept away along with their sins. And what of the Jews trapped in Egypt as slaves and the forty years they roamed in the harshness of the desert. If they had no faith, they too would have perished. Have faith Castiel, for our father is a wrathful God, and will see to the bloodshed of the humans as he sees fit. Now go, lead these men into battle and do not question any further, or Raphael himself will see to it that your wings be clipped and halo removed atop your head." and with that, the archangel was gone, leaving Castiel's sapphire eyes to be tainted with the rust of doubt and fear of their father. He blinked a few times and soon, the rust of doubt was cleared and replaced with the empty faith of a soldier who believed he was fighting for the greater good.

But deep down Castiel knew that he was different, and this was wrong, but he need not question the actions and ordered of his father. For he, was merely an angel, a soldier of god, and a servant of man.

Castiel arose from his spot, his iron armor clanking and ringing out like victory chimes. He adjusted his blade and healed all of his vessel's wounds, ready to lead his army into the city of Zara, a port that had once been controlled economically by Venice, pledged its alliance to King Emeric of Hungary after rebelling. He sighed and stood tall amongst his fellow knights. He made his walk to the center of the camp grounds, standing atop a carriage that stored supplies for their journey. He yelled for the men's attention, receiving it immediately. Knights stopped their chatter, nurses ceasing the intensive care and stepped out of their tents, and foot soldiers stopping in their feasting. All heads turned to Castiel, silence striking the Earth.

"Cavalieri! Compagni! Fratelli! Ascoltami ora! Noi siamo qui per il nostro Dio e Padre desidera che il suo nome sia conosciuto , per sapere che è l'unico vero Dio! Chiedo a voi ora, di avere fede, perché fornirà. Uomini , mi prestano la vostra forza! Ci serviremo sotto il nostro Signore, e diffondere il suo santo nome! Dio è la nostra forza!

[Knights! Comrades! Brothers! Hear me now! We are here for our god and father wishes for his name to be known, to know he is the one true god! I ask of you now, to have faith, for he will provide. Men, lend me your strength! We will serve under our Lord, and spread his holy name! God is our strength!]

The men shouted with a war cry as they repeated over and over, "Dio è la nostra forza! Dio è la nostra forza!" Castiel smiled a bit, but just enough that no one would noticed in the dim light of the moon or the orange tongues of the flames. He removed himself from the supply cart and made his way to his tent, staying silent to the men who clamored all around him, praising him of his speech in thick Italian. He retired to his canvas tent, removing his heavy clad armor and shined his blade. He looked down in its reflection, frowning at the man he saw, the man he WORE for these soldiers.

He was known by the name of Angelo De Novak, a descendant of a Venetian maiden and a German soldier. The man named Angelo was Venice born and a wonderful man who was a true believer of God. As he took Castiel in as his vessel, he did it with open arms, knowing that he would be serving god as he was always meant to, even if that meant leaving his wife and son behind. Castiel felt pity for the man, knowing that he most likely would not return to his family. He scowled at the reflection, sheathing his blade and looked up towards the heavens, praying to himself.

"Father I hope this bloodshed and sacrifice will please you." He looked down at the pendant around his neck, opening the locket to see Angelo and his family, a crude painting that had been sealed by glass in the brass prison. He closed it with a snap and gripped it tight, his knuckles turning white. "Do not worry Angelo, I will return you to your family." And with that, he blew out his candle and laid to rest, awaiting the next morning. Angel's did not sleep, but Castiel took the night to conduct war strategies as he stared at the ceiling of his worn tent. Tomorrow would be the day he feared would come. He knew many of these men would slaughter hundreds of men, turning their olive skin red under their shined armor. He tossed and turned, pity and fear eating at him. Angel's where not suppose to feel this way, so why was he? He cursed himself as the sun began to breath the horizon; it was time.

The horn of awakening sounded through the camp, like a death call. He rose from his bed and prepared himself, cleaning his olive skin from the sins of yesterday with a damp cloth. He stared into the bucket of clear and pure water, hating what he saw. He dropped the dirty rag into the bucket and red began to disperse throughout the liquid, soon tainting it with blood and dirt. He equipped himself with a clean and pale tunic, then his chainmail and his chest plate that bore a vibrant red crucifix. He took up his shield that was pure white with the same crucifix upon its white iron, sheathed his blade to his hip and held onto his halberd tightly through his leather gauntlets. He was ready for today, more than ready, it was as if he was bred for this, and he was.

He exited his tent, looking around at the men who began to pack up, more than eager to rush into battle. Castiel sighed at the sight and went to fetch his horse, smiling at the gentle creature who greeted him. He stroked her head, running his hand along her jaw. "Hello…" he spoke softly to her, feeding her an apple he had taken from his meal the night before. "I pray that this war will not last long." He pressed his forehead to the large horse, closing his eyes. He pulled away and began to clad the horse in armor that portrayed the red crucifix, cooing to her. Castiel mounted his steed, stroking her neck gently, nudging his heels into her sides as he beckoned her to move forward. The angel gathered his men, riding towards Zara.

Before Castiel knew it, the rush of battle was all around him: men screaming as swords and arrows penetrated the fragile flesh of one another, armor and shield's making a sound rhythm as they clashed together, and the splatter of blood purging the ground and armor of the victors who had slain the others. To Castiel, everything went in slow motion, adrenalin kicking into the blood of his vessel. Men dared to charge him, but he only cut them down, eyes piercing like ice and war cries that made even the strongest of men cringe with fear.

Castiel had killed one hundred and fifty-six men alone, his men killing a total of over one thousand-five hundred where civilians. Zara had fallen on November 23, 1202 by Castiel and his troops, the few who had agreed to siege Zara. Upon their arrival, they had blown away the city walls and ships who came from Venice assisted in their assault. Only fifty of his men had fallen, but they had achieved victory.

Later, Pope Innocent had excommunicated the faction of the crusaders that had attacked Zara along with Castiel and the entire Venetians. He wrote to the Venetians, "Behold, your gold has turned to a base metal and your silver had almost completely rusted since, departing from the purity of your plan and turning aside from the path onto the impassible road, you have, so to speak, withdrawn your hand from the plough for when you should have hastened to the land flowing with milk and honey, you turned away, going astray in the direction of the desert."

Castiel sat alone in the house of his Father, praying to him upon the cushioned kneelers, "Father, why do you wish of such bloodshed? Even the pope, the human who leads your work, had seen error in this mission, and yet you ordered the fall of Zara. Why is that?..." This was the first time Castiel had truly doubted his father. He eventually brought Angelo back to his home in Venice, his grace and angelic entity returning to heaven. He was praised for his work leading the crusaders to victory, but Castiel felt no pride in the matter. Castiel was promoted to head of the Earth Garrison, but Castiel still felt empty. Naomi, an angel higher than he, wished to see him. When he had finished his visit with her, his doubt had diminished, and his eyes bore the resemblance of a soldier once more.

It wouldn't be centuries later until he would feel this feeling again. It would rise like the sun does on the dawn of a new tomorrow, burn more brightly than when it was snuffed, and no one could stop him. For this time, his doubt would lead to the most important thing in his life.

"Your new assignment, Castiel, is to find Dean Winchester."