God's Will
For thine is the Kingdom, the Power and the Glory. Amen.
What the hell are they doing here? Dean's mind is twisting and twirling with his thoughts, one of them crazier than the last one. They will never get the information they need like this. And why has Sam insisted on putting him into the costume and acting the role he simply can't get into? Sam's the one praying each day, not him.
Besides, he was already sweaty when he put on the damn costume and now he's annoyed and knows that he will go crazy if he won't get out of it, soon. Fuck the job, he is leaving!
Dean storms out of the office and bumps straight into a solid body. The moment he hears the voice he knows that he is screwed!
„Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. "
Dean gasps quietly before he is pushed back into the office he just came from. The hand is warm and powerful on his chest, leaving its mark on his skin even through the thick layers of the robe he's wearing.
"You…"
"Yes me."
He looks at Dean from head to toe, a frown clearly written on his face.
"A priest? Seriously? You dare come here on a hunt or whatever mission in this house of God, my Father, you, on sacred ground unfaithful in a place of confidence?"
Dean's anger flares like a flame fuelled by gasoline. "I wasn't the one betraying my father or my brother! I didn't turn my back on them at the first sight of danger. I wasn't…"
A finger touches Dean's lips in an almost chaste gesture and shushes him completely. Cloudy blue eyes burn a searing path into his scarred soul and leave him hanging breathless and weak in the knees.
"You know nothing about me. You only believe what you see and honestly? That's hardly enough to get the full story. And, you don't know anything about loyalty."
Dean wants to answer, but nothing but a sigh slips over his lips.
"You know nothing of believing, you don't trust no-one, don't you, Dean? You are so unlike your brother even though he has all the right reasons to loose his faith in something greater. But if you like it or not, your brother does believe in God and so does mine."
Dean wants to scream, throw the words in his head around like bullets, 'How can I believe in something I can't see and if I don't know what is going on or what will happen?', but some kind of angel Mojo stops him from saying the words out loud and all that is heard is a pitiful groan.
The hand on his chest leaves, only to take his neck in a scorching grip. It spins Dean around, his heavy breathing and the swishing of Dean's long priest robe the only sounds disturbing the silence all around them.
"You see this?"
The angry whisper touches the side of his face with its hot breath. Strong fingers mix with it and pull his face in the right direction. Dean has no chance, but to look at it. His eyes dart all over the old wood, marked by age and something else he can neither define nor grasp.
"What is it to you, Dean? A symbol? A piece of a tree?"
Coughing, he finds that he got his voice back, but can't answer straight away. Something heavy burns in his throat and his chest, there, where his heart is and his eyes sting all of a sudden with unshed tears. He wants to rip the too tight collar away from around his throat, but the suddenly soft caress on his neck makes every move impossible.
"I… I can't." Dean's words sound broken and are almost choked out. He closes his eyes, desperately not wanting to see what he can't stop himself from thinking about.
He sees the little boy, who gets tucked in by his Mommy, her sweet voice telling him that angels watch over him. For years he had told himself that there was, is no higher power, that there is no God. Come on, there is just chaos, and violence and random predictable evil that comes out of nowhere and rips you into shreds, right?
The hand on his neck proves him otherwise. There are angels in this world, and what if there is more?
The grip loosens even more, but it never leaves. The fingers on his chin turn his head around once more and Dean almost drowns in the brightness of a stormy, cloudless sky.
He feels himself falling and wishes that Sammy was here, he could explain.
"I know that he can, but what is it to you?"
Dean shakes his head. "I don't know Balthazar."
"Then let me show you. I will show you, Dean."
He almost stumbles when Balthazar pushes him forward. His face is suddenly pressed into the piece of wood, but Balthazar's hands hold him unyielding in place. Anxiety rushes through Dean for a split second, but another soft caress, warm and somewhat sublime touches his now tightly closed eyes and the moment is gone. To Dean's heightened senses it feels like feathers and he has to make sure, has to see what is just happening. It takes his breath away when he does.
His hands need to hold on to something and the next best thing is the piece of wood he is pushed into. He takes hold of it and can't help, but flinch back from the feeling, which courses through the palms of his hands.
He is not coming far though, with Balthazar pressing against his back, the huge wings a mere shadow all around them. Dean doesn't even dare look again, even though he is not afraid anymore. It is just too much.
"What Balthazar, what do you see?" Dean's whisper sounds close to a sob.
"This…", his hand wanders from Dean's neck into his short hair, pushing his face even harder against the wood under his cheek and it makes him moan, but not because it hurt. Because it feels like something he might be able to believe in.
Balthazar's voice is a deep rumble in his ears. "This is all you need when you lose faith. This is all you need when you feel alone, Dean. This is a sign from up above, from my beloved Father. He's neither gone, nor far away as long as you just believe, Dean. So, if you ever doubt yourself or if you doubt my brother again look at this small token of his and have faith, son. For he is near."
The words still ring in Dean's ears when the pressure behind his back is gone in the quiver of a moment. For a while he just stands motionless except for the tears spilling down his cheeks in fine silver lines. Slowly he lets his fingers unfold and steps back to look at the wall with the large cross on it.
He can't breathe again for a moment. If heaven in its entirety feels half as divine, then maybe, maybe he can believe after all.
The thought is overwhelming and sends him to his knees, the tips of his fingers still touching the heavy cross.
Invisible for all human eyes, Balthazar watches for another moment and what he sees is a gift so celestial it simply has to be sent from the very heavens and the thought almost brings tears to his eyes.
The angel does not see the hunter in a cleric's costume, hiding behind a mask and lies he tells himself are true so he can believe in them.
What he sees is a young man on his knees who has found faith.
Balthazar looks up to the huge, wooden cross. He bows his head gracefully in acknowledgement and fleetingly touches Dean's bowed head before he is gone in the flutter of a heartbeat.
Dean becomes aware of his surroundings again, wakening like from a deep slumber and for the first time, maybe ever, he crosses himself.
End