The first thing I saw was a garden filled with trees towering towards the empty, white expanse above and flowers that seemed to radiate color and fragrance of all kinds. There were no words to adequately describe what beauty lay before me. But I was not alone in my amazement; I was surrounded by two others - my siblings. We stood in awe as our very beings' revelled in the glory sprawled out before us. And then He appeared, opening his embrace and catching us one by one in the strongest grip of love. Our Father took us and displayed the world he had created below. It was more beautiful than the garden, more beautiful than I or my siblings. This world below us was more beautiful than even our Father and we stood in wonder. He had created us to protect it, to protect His masterpiece. Our Father gave us each names and I, well I was the last to be named, the youngest of the first Archangels. And He decided that He would name the very garden we stood in after me, that I and the very beauty surrounding us were somehow destined to be one. I did not ask why, for I knew He was my Father and the Creator of All. He was God.
Local Woman Claims to Be Saved by Angel, that was the headline that sent Sam and Dean Winchester on a five hour drive to Lexington, Nebraska. Originally the brothers had assumed the woman was some religious nut who'd had a little too much wine but when they'd discovered there had been a legitimate eye witness, they shrugged their shoulders and decided to check it out. Despite their praying to Castiel, the Angel made no attempt to appear before them so they hit the road with a spare Angel blade and a pint of Holy Oil hidden in the trunk.
"I don't know man," Sam said as they pulled into town, "Angels don't really do this kinda thing. Since when do they care about one person dying?"
"Maybe she's important or something," Dean shrugged, parking the Impala out in front of a small, suburban house.
"I doubt it."
"Whatever, let's just get in and get out. I don't want some douche angel to catch us off guard."
The two of them walked up the steps of the front porch and Sam rang the doorbell. They had dawned their reporter get-ups before they'd arrived in town and Dean hadn't stopped fidgeting with his itchy blazer. The door opened and a woman smiled at them. She seemed to be in her mid-fifties, gray hair and subtle wrinkles. A golden cross hung around her neck.
"Hello gentleman, what can I do for you?" she asked.
"You must be Mrs. Frederickson," Sam said, putting on a polite smile, "I'm David and this is my co-worker Jim. We're from The Christian Post and we were wondering if we could possibly ask you a few questions about the Angel encounter you had for an article we're working on."
"Oh, of course! come right in," she turned and led them into the living room before heading to the kitchen, "let me just get you gentlemen some tea."
Dean examined the room with trained eyes. Family photos were all over the room, along with statues of angels and small pillows embroidered with Bible verses.
"Here you go," Mrs. Frederickson set a floral smelling cup of tea down in front of each of them then sat at the armchair across from the couch, "alright, ask away."
"Why don't you start by just telling us what happened the night the Angel saved you," Dean suggested.
"Well I was on my way home from the library. It was around 7 o'clock; I admit I don't usually stay out that late but I was caught up in a good book. A few blocks away from my house a strange man approached me with a gun and demanded I hand over my purse. Of course I did but I didn't have much money with me and he asked for my wedding ring," she absentmindedly twisted the golden band around her finger, the small diamond glistening in the light, "I told him that I couldn't bare to lose it. My husband passed away about a year ago and it's really all I have left of him. But he didn't care of course. So when I refused he came closer and threatened to shoot me. Now I may be old, but I'm stronger than I look; I could take on the best of them in the old days," the brothers smiled at that, "So I hit him and it knocked him back but he shot me and ran."
"Where did he shoot you?" Sam asked.
"Right here," Mrs. Frederickson pointed to the left side of her chest, right where her heart was, right next to the golden cross hanging from her neck, "it was terrifying, knowing I was going to die, but I suppose I was at peace. I don't have any children or grandchildren so there really wasn't anyone to leave behind, well except for a very dear old friend. But then the Angel appeared and she healed me. All good as new, like I'd never even been shot."
"And this Angel just appeared out of nowhere?" Dean said, brows furrowed together in confusion.
"Well I suppose I might have prayed but everything happened so quickly."
"Did the Angel ever tell you its name?" Sam asked, pretending to scribble down notes.
"Um...well," she seemed hesitant at this point, almost like she was deciding what to say, "no. She never gave me a name."
"Are you sure?"
Mrs. Frederickson was quiet for a moment, looking over the two men in front of her before she smiled, "I'm going to be honest with you two. I didn't tell the other reporters the full story because I knew they would think I'm crazy but I think you two will believe me. I want to show you something. I'll only be a minute."
As she left, the brothers turned to each other.
"So it's a girl Angel," Dean said, "have we even met any girl Angels?"
"Only Anna," Sam shook his head, "that means it can't be one we know."
"We should call Cas. I don't like this one bit."
"Agreed."
Mrs. Frederickson came back in holding a small photo in a painted frame. She handed it to Dean and the brothers examined it. There were two young women in the photo, one was undoubtedly Mrs. Frederickson but the other was a stranger.
"I met her back in 1979. I'd just gotten engaged to my husband."
"This is the Angel," Sam said in disbelief.
"Yes, she's a very dear friend."
"You've been friends with an Angel since 1979," Dean said, his shock mirroring that of his brother's.
She laughed, "I know. I didn't believe it when she first told me either but she really is."
"What is her name?"
The old woman smiled fondly, "Eden, her name is Eden."
The sound of wings filled the quiet motel room. The Winchesters looked up from where they sat at the small table, drinking a beer.
"You called," Castiel said, looking from one brother to the other.
"Yeah Cas," Dean set his bottle down, "we've got an Angel sighting."
The Angel titled his head, "What happened?"
"Local woman was shot but an Angel saved her," Sam explained.
"And get this," the older Winchester added, "the woman has known this Angel since 1979."
Cas squinted his eyes slightly, the corners of his lips turning down, "That's not possible. Angels haven't been sent to walk the Earth for centuries until you were freed from Hell."
"Yeah, but you've told us before that some Angels leave Heaven - like Anna," Sam said.
Dean took the picture Mrs. Frederickson had let them keep from his pocket, "Basically we just need to know if this Angel is going to be a threat," he handed the picture to Castiel, "do you recognize her?"
Cas studied the photo but shook his head, "I do not, but this is simply a vessel. Did you get a name?"
"She said the Angel's name is Eden."
The Angel's head shot up, eyes wide, "Eden. You're sure?"
"One hundred percent," Sam nodded, "but we've been researching and neither of us can find anything on her. There's no mention of an Angel named Eden anywhere, not even in the Bible."
"Well except for the garden," Dean added.
"Yeah."
Cas shook his head, "While the Bible gets most of our history correct, there are a few things it fails to capture in truth. Perhaps the most important is the story of Eden."
Dean rubbed the back of his neck, "Alright, I'll bite. What is it?"
"After God created the Earth and Heaven, he created the Angels. The first of whom were Michael, Lucifer, and Eden."
"So she's an Archangel then?" Sam said.
"Yes. Your Bible depicts Eden as a garden when in reality the garden itself is named after the Angel."
"But how is she supposed to help us Cas?" Dean crossed his arms over his chest.
"When the war in Heaven started, Michael and Lucifer both confronted Eden, demanding she pick a side."
"And?"
"And she refused. She believed the Angels shouldn't fight each other."
"What you're thinking," Sam said, "is that she won't want the war to start again."
"Exactly."
Dean let out a breath, "So…what? We find her and get her to convince Michael and Lucifer not to fight? Have you seen them? They're not just gonna stop because some gardening angel tells them to."
"Well, I mean it can't hurt to talk to her," the younger Winchester shrugged, "maybe she'll help us."
"I agree." Castiel nodded.
"So do we just, uh, do we just pray?"
"Yes."
The brothers looked at each other and shrugged. Sam closed his eyes and tilted his head up while Dean simply put his hands together.
"Uh, Eden," Dean paused, "if you can hear me, we want to talk to you, about your brothers."
"We want your help to stop the Apocalypse," Sam added.
The three men waited, eyes surveying the room but the Angel never showed.
Castiel physically deflated, letting out a deep sigh.
"Well that was a waste of time," Dean muttered.
Sam ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his neck, "We'll find a way to stop it. We have to."
The whistle blew through the station, signalling the train was leaving soon. She walked a little quicker, a small skip in her step. Handing her ticket to the conductor, she climbed aboard and found a seat beside a large open window where the fading sun shone in, casting small shadows onto the floor.
"Uh Eden, if you can hear me, we want to talk to you, about your brothers."
"We want your help to stop the Apocalypse."
The Winchesters. She smiled to herself. Perhaps if they'd called her before she'd gotten on the train, maybe she would've gone to visit them. But it seemed it was not yet the time.
The train roared to life and pulled out of the station. She could feel the wheels turning beneath her feet, could feel the air shift as they picked up speed. She watched from the window, the scenery whizzing by, melting together into bright colors and blurred shapes. She would meet them soon.
