Just so you know, I'm from one of the most atheistic countries in the world. So I don't believe in God, angels or Apocalypse. I never read the Bible and I will twist the whole Angelology to the image I like. This story will be full of blasphemy. Or not. I don't really know what classifies as blasphemy. Nor do I care. Don't say I didn't warn you.
By the way, I don't write slash. And I'm not one for romance. So every mention of love – means brotherly love. Or friendship. Never the romantic kind. Minor spoilers up to season 8.
NOW
"He's the freaking Devil!" Dean shouted, desperate to get through to his friend.
"He's my brother." he said calmly, not looking from the stone wall with bloody sigil on it.
"He almost destroyed the world!" Dean said, not believing what he was hearing. He just couldn't be serious. This had to be some sort of joke. Yeah. Maybe he found sense for humor somewhere. He couldn't possibly be on the Devil's side.
"So did I." he replied, still calmly. Dean just sighed. I guess he can.
"Cas, please. Don't do this." he pleaded, but his friend was silent. Dean didn't want to do this. He really didn't. But he had to stop him. In his shaking hand, he gripped the Angel Blade tighter. He looked at his friend's back, uneasy feeling of déjàvu crawling into his mind. But he had to act. He wanted to start the thing they fought so hard to stop. He had to stop him. So quickly, he moved. Unfortunately, he was still up against an angel. Rather easily he blocked him and with incredibly quick move, he broke his arm. Still holding his broken arm tightly, he looked at him with sadden expression.
"I'm sorry it had to end like this, but I will never stop protecting you, Dean. Close your eyes." he said.
"Cas! Don't-" Dean didn't finish, because grip on his injured arm tightened and he yelped in pain.
"Close them." Castiel repeated more firmly and as soon as Dean obeyed, Castiel turned to wall again. He looked like he was concentrating on something and all that time, he was so damn calm. Like he didn't even realize what he was about to do. Dean didn't understand what the hell happened. Was it some freaky spell or curse? Could an angel be possessed? Because it certainly looked like it. Dean's train of thoughts was interrupted when Castiel talked again.
"Lucifer, ego te absolvo." and with that, bright light flooded the room. Dean was really happy he did as he was told for once. Otherwise he was sure, he would be eyeless. But for some reason, it didn't make him feel better. It didn't make him feel better at all.
THEN
He remembered Heaven before the Fall. It was not as peaceful as people would have imagined. Even before the mankind, there were disputes. Him and Michael. Always them. How could they love each other so much and yet fight all the time? And Father? He didn't do anything. Nor did He say anything. Sometimes he thought He didn't care. But for the most of the time he was sure, He did care. He was their father after all. And as a father, He loved them all. He had to. At least he thought so at the time. Now after everything that's happened, he wasn't so sure anymore.
Some say he hates God and his brothers. The truth is, he loved his family. And he still does. And not in the angel-programmed sort of way. The true love within, the kind that entire Host couldn't possibly grasp. So they didn't understand him. Nobody did. And neither they could understand the hate he felt towards humans. It was difficult, in the beginning. What started as love, eventually twisted into immense feelings of hate, anger and betrayal. And it all started with one request. That stupid request. When his Father created mankind, he didn't think much about it. Father created many animals, each one of them unique and beautiful. But then He created mankind. And He gave an order. The fateful order.
"No." was his unthinkable answer. His brothers looked at him with horror and awe in their eyes. Father looked at him in more curious way.
"Lucifer," He said, "bow yourself to Adam, for I command you."
"No." Lucifer said, standing his ground, refusing to back down now. He would not bow to those flawed defenseless and incredibly dangerous maggots. When he saw Father look at Michael he knew – this was the end. And although he knew he could just pretend like all the others, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He stayed truthful to himself, his brothers and his Father. Perhaps that was his mistake. Perhaps he could avoid it. If he would give in, maybe he would have never been cast out. But after a while, that wasn't really a choice anymore. With an army of rebellious angels behind him and civil war imminent, he had to stand his ground. For a moment, he believed he would win. And in times like just before the First Civil War, when whole third of Heavenly Host was behind him, he truly hoped that other brothers would come to see a reason. That they would see why he was fighting God. But he was mistaken. All of them were so hell bent on following orders that they never stopped to think what they wanted. What they needed. Because they didn't want anything. They didn't need anything. They were just good little obedient drones. And so he lost. And he was angry. So angry. He even went to the Garden to play with Father's beloved humans. They were exactly what he expected. Flawed, weak and easily manipulated. Of course, what he did, it only made matters worse. Once he entered the Garden he went on the path that would lead straight to the Pit. But he didn't regret it, no. He didn't regret anything. The only thing he felt little sorry for was the fate of Gadreel. He was young. He was innocent. He didn't deserve that.
At that time he didn't wonder why Father let this to happen. But that changed in the Pit. He realized He made him this way. He granted him emotions and free will, so he could rebel. It was all on purpose. So he accepted his role. Mainly because he actually liked that corrupting-of-men concept. He wanted his vengeance on humans either way, so it didn't really matter if he was doing exactly what God wanted.
Most of the time, it was boring. He felt every single soul in Hell that was successfully corrupted, but he had only scraps of information. In the Cage, there was just nothing to do. With time, most of his emotions slowly faded. He still felt hate, anger and - as much as he hated to admit it – envy. But he just stopped to feel mercy and compassion and his feeling of love was so weak that sometimes he wasn't sure if he still felt it. Although, the worst feeling from them all remained – loneliness. It was killing him that he was surrounded by those malevolent, despicable, hideous.. things. They were no better than humans. But Father was angry when he created Lilith, so he just continued to use them, hoping he would rattle him some more. After all, he would get rid of them eventually. But all that didn't change the fact he was the lonely angel in this pit. And even if there was an occasional fallen angel, and even if that fallen angel was sympathizer, not one of them could think for themselves. They were just looking for another leader, they were waiting for other orders, like brainless little sheep, one same as the other. And he was sure, this was why he couldn't connect with them. Because not one of them loved him. Not truly.
So in the end, he put his faith in demons. And it worked. He had to wait thousands of years, but eventually, it worked. In the end, it didn't really matter how long he had to wait. Time wasn't very important to him. All that mattered was the result. The result was satisfying – the final Seal was broken and he was free. After a while, he found a temporary vessel, so he was ready. He was ready to do what he wanted all his time in the Pit. The foolish humanity would pay.
It was interesting, to say at least. One of his brothers came here – with the Winchesters – in a car. He could feel his Grace. It was so crippled that he was almost human. Distasteful. Repulsive. Curious. He had to see him. He didn't particularly like Holy Oil. But in this case, it was necessary. He wanted to speak with him, of course. But there was also something else he needed to do. And he would just stand in the way.
It was actually pretty easy to entrap him. Perhaps he didn't expect it. Or he did expect it and he was just too damn stubborn. Whatever it might be, he was now surrounded by circle of Holy Fire. He looked at him and recognized him. He saw him in Heaven few times. Castiel. At that time he was mere foot soldier. Obedient. Valiant. Expendable. In this crippled state even more pathetic than usual. And yet he rebelled against Heaven, not siding with Hell, but Dean Winchester instead. As a result, he was cast out, cut off from Heaven's power. Just like him. Of course, he eventually ended up in the Pit, but that was another matter.
He asked him to join him. He couldn't help but to think how they were alike. So he tried, like with many of his brothers, to make him see a reason. But he failed. This insignificant crippled little angel despised him as they all did. So he left. He told himself that he didn't care about him. For most of the time, he believed it. Right up until he killed him. He didn't know why he did it, when deep down, he thought so high of him. Yes, he was angry that he dared to attack Michael. But still – he was so like him. Inside he couldn't help but to feel – what was it? Not sadness. He had no idea what he felt, just an empty, hollow feeling inside of him. Of course, he didn't have much time to think about it. There was this issue with Michael. Before they were interrupted, he tried to reason with him, to make him see what Father was doing. But he was a 'good son', that's what he said. Good son. Which meant another mindless drone, just with extra juice. Even in Heaven, he was always like this. Even though he knew the concept of free will, he chose to ignore it. In any circumstances, he always obeyed. Everything Father said, everything he foretold, every word of His.. well, Word, would happen. Because he was a good son. Didn't stop to question any of Father's doings. Not for one moment. Not ever. And unlike most of the angels, Michael was capable of his own opinion. But again, he chose to ignore it. He would do everything he was supposed to do. Fulfill his destiny, because Father told so. Cast him out, because Father told so. Lock him in the Cage, because Father told so. Kill him, because Father told so. He would literally do anything, hell, he would even cross the circle of Holy Fire, if Father would just told him to. And never, for one moment, he would think there was something wrong with it.
Him, on the other hand, he was always thinking about every single order they were given. He questioned, he had doubts, but nothing too severe. Yet it was enough for two of them to have their little quarrels. And now, he was in the Cage again. With Michael. Talk about cabin fever. At least they had something to play with. After Sam Winchester's soul was ripped away from them, they still had the last brother. It was fun. At least at the beginning. He had his share of festivities and Michael was just idle and indifferent as always. But then, he began to participate. And the more years passed, the more he contributed. Now he looked at Michael and didn't recognize him. Uninterested observer would look at them and wouldn't be able to tell which one of them was in fact the Devil. Before, Michael wasn't capable of deep emotions, he always has been 'good son', which was translated more like 'soulless sheep'. He did what he was supposed to do, never questioning orders, never thinking for himself. Now Lucifer saw glint of emotion and it terrified him. He saw pure hatred in his eyes, he saw him enjoy the torture. For a while, it was interesting. Intriguing, no less. But real quick it became unsettling. Part of him was pleased when he saw what Michael was becoming. But part of him was also horrified when he saw how much the most powerful archangel of all creation could act as a lowlife demon. Because it begged the question – what exactly was the difference between the two of them?
When he saw that pure hatred in Michael's eyes, he realized how easily angels could succumb to emotions. How easily they could shut down all that following-orders-without-thinking crap, if they just had the capacity. And Michael certainly did. But no, all his life, he chose to ignore it. And one time he shuts down that robot ego of his, it's in the Hell, so he could enjoy the torture. Not that Lucifer was any different. He enjoyed hearing torture of every single human soul. But that was him. He was the Devil. He was supposed to like it. Okay, he didn't care he was supposed to, he just liked it. But Michael always did what he was supposed to do. And that was being a good soldier, working against him and not with him against the lost Winchester brother. It was all so messed up these days.
He remembered a story Father told him. He was being cryptic, as always, and it didn't make lot of sense. Not at that time anyway. It was about two animals, lion and dragon. By leader of their world, they were given seven little offsprings. Three newts, three earthworms and one unicorn. They were supposed to take care of all of them equally. They were stricken by the beauty of young unicorn, the very first one they ever saw. He looked like omniscient magic mixture of innocence and power. Both of them immediately loved him. But their other charges, that was a different story. Dragon was quite indifferent about the newts, but he didn't want to take care of earthworms and he said so. Lion on the other hand didn't mind the earthworms and he didn't want to take care of newts, but he didn't say anything. Both of them wanted to take care of the one unicorn. Both of them were looking for ways to please him. As the time was passing, they were looking for more and more ways to satisfy him. And they brought less and less food for their other charges. Until one day, there was neither newts and earthworms, nor unicorn, who disappeared without a trace after the others died. Lucifer wondered who exactly was that unicorn, but the last thing Father told him about this story was that leader of their world descended amongst them, staring at the six dead. And then suddenly, as if He had forgotten about the story He was telling, about the story He didn't finish, He changed the subject.
"The true love," He said with distant look, "can open the door leading to the Most Beloved, twice locked and sealed."
Back then, in Heaven, he had no idea what that meant. But after he was imprisoned down here for the second time, he truly understood. He was locked in the Cage. Twice now. So now was his chance to get out of here through God's little loophole. No Seals. Just the right angel. But he quickly understood the meaning of the words 'true love'.
Every day he sent out silent signal. And every day, there was silence. Every single one of his brothers was too single-minded, too focused on Heaven's work to even realize he wanted to connect with them. For a long time there was just nothing. No answer, no connection, no feelings of any kind. But then he felt it. Rash of emotions beneath the Grace. It wasn't so unheard of that one of his siblings began to express emotions. Usually, it eventually faded. Most of the time they were dragged into one of the darkest corners of Heaven. Few of them fell. But this one? He still fought. In spite of pain, disregarding him eventually succumbing to them, the emotions didn't fade. Not completely. They always stayed buried deep down inside him, even when he was 're-educated', meaning tortured and brainwashed. Most of the angels would go just back to their normal state – obedient little soldier with no emotions. But him, he still hold onto them.
There were very few of those who were able to maintain emotions for an extended period of time, without the need for a leader, happy with free will. Anna – dead. Balthazar – dead. Gabriel – dead. Okay, that one was his fault. Which meant only one remained – Castiel. And he was interesting one too. The number of his resurrections was disturbing. What were his Father's intentions? Why did he keep bringing him back? Why him? Why don't bring back Gabriel? Why don't free Michael? Why did he intervene in such trivial matter, protecting seemingly ordinary angel, mere foot soldier, who haven't even met him? It didn't make any sense to him. Well, just as almost everything Father did.
He tried to connect again. Still just a minor effort, the one an ordinary soldier would have never noticed. He hoped he was right about this. That he really felt an angel who wasn't afraid of emotions. Well, who wasn't blocking them, at least. So he sent out his silent signal, full of hope of connecting at some level, but entirely ready for failure. It always failed so far.
"Stop." came an unexpected reply. Lucifer didn't expect someone would've answered. He waited for feeling of connection, that would suffice as confirmation of existing link. But not this. Which meant only one thing – he got even more than he hoped for. The very fact he actually answered was proof enough – he found his chosen angel, the one who would free him. All those thousands of years in the Cage Lucifer would have never imagined that his savior would be an angel. And certainly not this one. The one called Castiel.
And this is just beginning..