Standard disclaimer, Supernatural and all that entails belongs to not-me, etc etc.
"This fight is just starting. And we are all gonna have a part to play." -John Winchester
Bobby froze in the kitchen, just on the other side of the archway leading to the study; there was a stranger in front of his desk, leafing casually through one of his books and peering occasionally at the talismans and charms that adorned the room. She glanced up briefly as she crossed the room, her mouth twitching into a little (approving?) smile as she moved across the elaborate Key of Solomon on the ceiling. Not a demon, then.
She was beautiful, and young, with smooth caramel skin and long braided black hair; dressed in dark blue-jeans and a vividly purple t-shirt, she seemed perfectly normal. Not that that necessarily meant anything. The old hunter got the strangest idea that he should recognize her, but there really wasn't much time to place the feeling; he grabbed the shotgun from where it lay against the wall and pointed it at her, stepping fully into the doorway.
"Who the hell are you?"
She paused, looking up from the thick tome she was holding, and pierced him with eyes the color of fine, pale jade. The stranger seemed to be looking right into him, and the feeling was more then a little unnerving; then she smiled, the expression warming up her eyes considerably.
"Bobby Singer," she mused, her voice like a jaguar in a cello, velvety smooth and almost comforting.
"I know who I am," he snapped, still sighting down the shotgun in his hands. "I asked who the hell you are? And what are you doin' in my house?"
The stranger put down the leather-bound tome and turned to face him fully, slender hands falling to her sides. As far as he could tell, she was unarmed.
"I'm Ariel," she said, and the shotgun lowered very slightly in recognition of the name. "And I thought I should introduce myself properly..." The angel trailed off a bit, eyes drifting to one side as a thought seemed to come to her. "Perhaps I should have knocked..."
"Ya think?"
"Quite often, yes," was the quick, matter-of-fact answer, and Bobby blinked, gun lowering further. For a moment, he thought she'd taken his sarcastic question seriously; Dean had suggested (whined, really) that Castiel was rather obliviously straight-forward. The slight crinkling around her eyes, though, told a different story. She was teasing him. An angel was standing in his study, teasing him.
.
...
.
Bobby wondered how it had come to this. Granted, the life of a hunter was often filled with strange and bizarre occurrences. That was a given. But this... this was just weird.
Once he had been satisfied she was who (and what) she said she was, he'd lead the faintly smiling woman into the kitchen. That's when the strangeness started, really; not with the finding of an unfamiliar woman inside his house, but rather, shortly after when said woman leaped up to perch on the back of one of his kitchen chairs. On the back of it. Not the seat, but instead she'd planted her booted feet on the tallest part of the chair. She perched there, essentially crouching, like a friggin' bird, though how she kept it balanced was a complete mystery.
Ariel was staring at him, head tilted to one side, and he realized he'd zoned out while she was talking. "Sorry," he said. "Just trying to wrap my head around... all this." Bobby gestured broadly as he said it, and understanding flickered across her face.
"Hunters tend to take it better than most. You're actually doing quite well," she said, shifting so her feet were flat on the seat of the chair and she was sitting on the back. It didn't even wobble with the movement. He looked up from his near-glare towards the chair to find her watching him, bemused.
"You have questions," she said, though Bobby didn't think she was referring to his preoccupation with her choice of seating.
"Damn right I do. What are your plans for Dean?" Ariel blinked once, then sighed.
"I should have expected you to first ask those questions I cannot answer..."
"Can't, or won't?" he snapped.
She didn't seem offended by the tone, and her answer was surprisingly swift and matter-of-fact. "Both, actually. Ignoring the fact that even I don't know all of the Host's current plan... If I told you what I do know, you would immediately rush off and tell Sam and Dean. They're not ready-"
Bobby cut her off, his temper getting the best of him. "Listen, lady, I don't know who you think you are, but those boys have been through enough. They're ready for-"
It was the angel's turn to cut him off, and her pale eyes sharpened slightly. "They're not ready, Bobby Singer. Dean is only just starting to recover from his time in the Pit, and Sam, though he's trying, still stands with one foot on a dark road that will lead nowhere but ruin. They're twisting in the wind, trying to catch their balance. Piling more information, more weight, upon them will only snap the rope holding them aloft."
Bobby blinked a few times, thinking over what she'd said and trying to ignore how he was suddenly vaguely intimidated by the ninety pound young woman sitting in his kitchen. They stared at each other for a long moment, then he asked, "So... how much of the crap on angels in my books is accurate?"
Her expression softened slightly and she leaned back almost imperceptibly, accepting the subject-change with grace.
"Not much, though the sections on how we communicate with humans was surprisingly complete. There are fewer types of angels then your books would have you believe, and we're not arranged into 'choirs'..."
.
...
.
Bobby had filled most of the pages on the legal-pad with scribbled notes by the time the sun began to creep towards the horizon. Information filled the pages, ranging from the hierarchy of Heaven (including a brief description of each 'type' of angel, though she gave no names he didn't already know) to the best way to stop a wendigo in it's tracks, if you had no fire or silver. Along the margins and interspersed between paragraphs were diagrams and symbols, drawn in a curving, graceful hand from those few times the angel had snatched away his pen to add something.
Ariel rose to her feet as she answered his latest question (they'd moved on to various beasts from the Pit, and how to deal with them), only to quite suddenly go still, her pale eyes distant.
"Somethin' wrong?"
She didn't answer right away, her head tilted to one side like she was listening to something. "No... Dean and Sam are, hopefully, going to preserve another seal with their current 'job'," she said eventually, dragging out the first word and still staring towards the wall with an unfocused look in her eyes.
"Should I call 'em?"
"No, though I wouldn't try to stop you from doing so. It appears some of my brothers have orders to make contact with the Winchesters tomorrow afternoon. I imagine they may call you, before long." The angel finally fixed the elder hunter with a wide-eyed, intense stare, and added, "I would begin finding any and all information you can find on Samhain, were I you."
"Samhain. Got it. What are you gonna do?"
"Me?" Ariel smiled a bit impishly as she pushed her long braids back over her shoulder. "I'm going to see about lending a hand, of course. It was lovely to meet you, Bobby, but I'm afraid we'll have to pick this up again another time..."
And then she vanished with a feathery sort of rustle, leaving Bobby blinking in his abruptly empty kitchen. "Angels," he muttered with sudden understanding for Dean's bitching, glancing at the notes before pulling himself upright with a groan. He had research to do.
"Hey, Bobby. Listen, we're on a friggin' witch hunt and the bitch is apparently trying to summon up some big..."
Sam glanced over at Dean, who had trailed off; they were on their way to the high school to see what they could dig up on Tracy Davis. Dean's eyebrows had lifted in surprise.
"How the hell did you know that?" There was another pause following the startled question, and the surprise didn't fade. "Oh. That's... No, no, okay wha'd'ya got?"
"Uh huh... Uh huh... Yeah, Sammy pulled up most of that last night. You find anything, you know... new?"
.
...
.
Bobby rolled his eyes and said, "I dug up a few ways you can deal with this guy if he gets up here... Rituals and incantations and the like... But how about you boys stop the witch before it comes to that?"
"That's the plan," Dean said, and Bobby got the impression that the younger hunter wanted to ask about his angelic visitation.
"Good. Give me a call if things go to shit. I'll see what else I can dig up."
"Alright. Thanks, Bobby."
.
...
.
"What was that?"
"What was what?" Dean slid his phone back into the pocket of his jacket, one hand on the wheel as he pulled into the high school parking lot. Sam made a face, which his brother carefully ignored.
"You know what. What's going on with Bobby?"
"Nothin'. Apparently he had a celestial sort of visit yesterday. Got a heads-up about what we were hunting."
"Castiel?"
"Ariel."
"Why?"
"I dunno, Sammy. I didn't ask," came the short response, and then Dean was hopping out of the car, a sign that the conversation was over.
Sam blinked, then drew his gun, snapping, "Who are you?" at the two men standing in their motel room.
"Sam, Sam, wait!" called Dean, moving up quickly beside him. "It's Castiel."
"The angel," he clarified, and Sam lowered the gun, eyes widening. Eying the well-dressed black man standing by the window, Dean added, "Him I don't know."
Castiel turned, meeting the surprised and slightly awed gaze of the taller, younger Winchester. "Hello, Sam."
"Oh my god. Er, uh, I didn't mean to... sorry. It's an honor," sputtered Sam, stepping forward a bit and offering his hand. "Really, I-I've heard a lot about you."
Castiel stared at the hand as Dean shut the door, and, after a moments thought, shook it carefully. "And I, you."
"Sam Winchester," he said, clasping his hand between both of his own. "The boy with the demon blood." Sam blinked, taken aback by the 'greeting'. The angels hands were... not warm, but not cold either, and the blue eyes seemed to be looking right through him.
"Glad to hear you've ceased your extracurricular activities."
"Let's keep it that way," interjected the man by the window.
"Yeah, okay chuckles," cut in Dean before turning to Castiel. "Who's your friend?"
Instead of answering the question, Castiel asked, "This raising of Samhain... have you stopped it?"
"Why?"
"Dean, have you located the witch?"
"Yes, we've located the witch."
"And, is the witch dead?"
Sam, looking worried, said, "No, but-"
"We know who it is," Dean finished.
Castiel moved deeper into the room, saying, "Apparently, the witch knows who you are, too."
He picked up a small pouch from the end table. "This was inside the wall of your room. If we hadn't found it, surely one or both of you would be dead. Do you know where the witch is now?"
Dean turned and made a face at Sam before saying, "We're working on it."
"That's unfortunate."
"What do you care?"
Castiel glanced briefly towards the other man before answering. "The raising of Samhain is one of the 66 seals."
"So this is about your buddy Lucifer."
"Lucifer is no friend of ours," came the ominous voice from the window.
"It's just an expression," countered Dean, frowning slightly at the man's back.
Castiel redirected the conversation. "Lucifer cannot rise. The breaking of the seal must be prevented at all costs."
"Okay, great. Well, now that you're here, why don't you tell us where the witch is? We'll gank her, and everybody goes home."
Castiel looked slightly resigned. "We are not omniscient. This witch is very powerful. She's cloaked, even to our methods."
"Okay, well, we already know who she is," said Sam, still working through his awe at being in the presence of walking, talking angels. "So, if we work together-"
"Enough of this," interrupted the man by the window.
"Who are you and why should I care?" snapped Dean, clearly tired of the interruptions.
"This is Uriel," introduced Castiel, sounding like he didn't really want to. "He's what you might call... a specialist."
Uriel turned and moved closer to the others, his expression cold and almost mocking. "What kind of a specialist?" questioned Dean.
There was a long, heavy pause, and then Dean asked, "What are you going to do?"
"You... both of you, you need to leave this town immediately," said Castiel rather then answering.
"Why?"
"Because we're about to destroy it."
Sam and Dean exchanged surprised, horrified expressions, and then Dean turned back to the angels. "So this is your plan? You're going to smite the whole friggin' town?"
"We're out of time," said Castiel. "This witch has to die. The seal must be saved."
"There are a thousand people here," interjected Sam.
"1,214," corrected Uriel.
Sam was outraged. "And you're willing to kill them all?"
"This isn't the first time I've... purified a city."
Castiel, perhaps wanting to avoid an argument, said, "Look, I understand this is regrettable..."
"Regrettable," parroted Dean with sarcastic disbelief.
"We have to hold the line. Too many seals have broken already," continued Castiel.
"So you screwed the pooch on some seals, and now this town has to pay the price?"
"It's the lives of 1,000 against the lives of 6 billion. There's a bigger picture here."
"Right... 'cause, uh, you're bigger-picture kind of guys."
Castiel took a step closer to Dean, trying to impress upon him the seriousness of the situation. "Lucifer cannot rise. He does, and Hell rises with him. Is that something that you're willing to risk?"
Dean was looking slightly conflicted, so Sam interrupted. "We'll stop this witch before she summons anyone. Your seal won't be broken and no one has to die."
"We're wasting time with these mud monkeys," said Uriel, and Castiel turned away from Dean, saying, "I'm sorry. But we have our orders."
"No, you can't do this... You... you're angels. I mean, aren't you supposed to..." Sam faltered slightly at Uriel's derisive snicker. "You're supposed to show mercy."
"Says who?" mocked Uriel.
"We have no choice," added Castiel.
"Of course you have a choice," said Dean, studying Castiel carefully. "I mean, come on, what, you've never questioned a crap order? What are you both, just a couple of hammers?"
Castiel stiffened slightly under the questioning, and said, "Look, even if you can't understand it, have faith the plan is just."
"How can you even say that?" asked Sam. Whatever he'd thought angels were, this wasn't it.
Castiel turned slightly. "Because it comes from Heaven. That makes it just."
"It must be nice... to be so sure of yourselves..."
Castiel turned his eyes back to Dean. "Tell me something, Dean. When your father gave you and order, didn't you obey?"
Rather then answer, Dean said, "Sorry, boys, it looks like the plans have changed."
"You think you can stop us?" Uriel sounded slightly incredulous.
"No," said Dean, shaking his head and moving closer to the newest angel. "But if you're gonna smite this whole town... then you're gonna have to smite us with it because we are not leaving." He glanced back at Castiel, and added, "You went to the trouble of busting me out of hell. I figure I'm worth something to the man upstairs. You wanna waste me? Go ahead. See how he digs that."
"I will drag you out of here myself," Uriel all but snarled.
"Yeah, but you'll have to kill me. Then we're back to the same problem. I mean, come on. You're gonna wipe out a whole town for one little witch? Sounds to me like you're compensating for something."
Dean stared down the silent angel for a long moment then turned back to stand next to Castiel. "We can do this," he said. "We will find that witch. We will stop the summoning."
"Castiel, I will not let these-"
"Enough," snapped Castiel without looking at his counterpart, still meeting Dean's eyes.
"I suggest you move quickly."
.
...
.
When they escaped the tension of the room, Dean was horrified to see that the Impala had been egged. He glared at it, and Sam made his way to the passenger side with a shake of his head.
"Astronaut!" he bellowed, glaring around the parking lot, and then dropped into the car, slamming the door with a scowl. Glancing at Sam, he found his brother turning the hex-bag over in his hands, looking disturbed.
"What?"
"Nothing," Sammy said, shaking his head. Dean kept his eyes on his brother, and Sam cracked, huffing out an almost-laugh.
"I thought they'd be different," he said finally.
"Who, the angels?"
"Yeah."
Sam hadn't looked at him, and Dean tried to soften the disappointment. It probably would have gone better had Ariel been there, but the guardian had been suspiciously absent. "Well... I tried to tell ya."
"I just-" Sam cut himself off, then tried again, eyes still on the pouch of skeevy witch-mojo. "I mean, I thought they'd be righteous," he said finally, shooting Dean a kicked-puppy sort of look.
He opened his mouth, but another voice interjected from the back seat. "Self-righteous, anyway."
Both Sam and Dean startled, jerking around, and the elder hunter made a face as he lightly punched the steering-wheel, his heart racing despite immediately recognizing the voice.
"Dammit, Ariel..." Dean growled, eyes closed.
"Sorry," she said, sounding amused and not at all sorry. "Just couldn't help myself."
Sam was gaping at the young woman sitting in the middle of the bench seat, hazel-green eyes flicking briefly to Dean who looked like he was trying to force down the sudden surge of adrenaline they'd both received.
The angel the back of the car stuck a slender hand over the seat, amusement evident in her expression and a little smile playing about her mouth. "Hello, Sam. We haven't been properly introduced yet."
Despite being more then a little disenchanted by the angels he'd just met, and more then a little wary of this particular angel, considering their last 'meeting', Sam took her hand reflexively; her hand was extremely cold, almost like ice in comparison to Castiel's.
"Uh, hi," he said, blinking as the pale jade eyes seemed to look right into him; he could see Dean watching the exchange from the drivers seat, a strange look on his face.
"Don't lose faith, Sam," she said suddenly, her smile turning sad while her voice dropped in volume, and Sam swallowed as he released her hand. Beside him, Dean grew quite still, and the younger brother resisted the urge to start rambling. "My Father... He hears all prayers, even if it seems He doesn't, even if He seems to be ignoring you. Even... if my brothers do their level best to be as obnoxious as possible."
The last bit made Dean snort, and he stuck his key in the ignition; the Impala rumbled to life, breaking the silence that had fallen. Ariel blinked, head tilted to one side and her eyes suddenly wide. "Huh," she said, obviously choosing to tactfully ignore the shocked expression on Sam's face. "That's... different."
"What's that?" asked Dean, glancing at her in the rear view mirror as he pulled out of the parking lot.
"I've never been inside a moving vehicle before. The rumbling is... I think I like it." Dean flashed the bemused angel in the backseat a wide, pleased grin, also doing his best to let Sam get over his apparent shock; inwardly, he was glad Ariel had arrived when she had. He didn't have faith like Sammy did, but despite that, he didn't want his brother to lose it. Dean wasn't entirely sure he could have found the right thing to say to maintain a faith he himself didn't feel.
"That's my baby," he said, patting the dashboard.
Beside him, Sam was toying with the hex-bag, startled expression gone. "So," Dean said, ignoring the silent, thoughtful presence in the backseat. "You gonna figure out a way to find this witch or are you just gonna sit there fingering your bone?"
There was a sound of amusement from behind him, and Dean glanced at the rear view in time to see Ariel making a face at him. He flashed her another grin and turned back in time to see Sam put on his 'thinking face', even as a soft rustling announced Ariel's departure from the moving vehicle.
Castiel stood next to the park bench where Uriel sat, his blue eyes following the costumed children as they moved, laughing, down the path.
"The decision's been made," he said, hands clasped behind his back.
"By a mud monkey," came the derisive response.
"You shouldn't call them that," Castiel said, looking away from his brother.
"Oh, that's what they are. Savages, just plumbing on two legs."
Castiel turned his eyes down to Uriel, his tone vaguely reprimanding. "You're close to blasphemy." A long pause, filled with birdsong and the distant sound of laughing children, met his statement. "There is a reason we were sent to save him," continued the warrior of Heaven. "He has potential. He may succeed here..."
He dropped back onto the bench, elbows resting on his knees and his hands together supporting his chin."At any rate, it's out of our hands."
"It doesn't have to be," Uriel said beside him.
"And what would you suggest?"
Uriel's voice was increasingly cold when he answered. "That we drag Dean Winchester out of here, then we blow this insignificant pinprick off the map."
"You know our true orders," retorted Castiel, inwardly shocked at the suggestion, though it didn't quite show. "Are you prepared to disobey?"
They stared at each other for a long moment, and then a third voice chimed in behind them, sounding more then a little irritated. "I certainly hope not."
Castiel was surprised, not having sensed her arrival, and whirled to stare at his sister, his movement mimicked by an equally surprised Uriel; Ariel was standing behind the bench, just a few feet away with her hands casually in the pockets of her jeans. Her hard-eyed gaze, though, was settled on Uriel, not Castiel, and he found himself relaxing slightly.
For whatever reason, Ariel's disapproval made him... uncomfortable.
"Ariel-"
"I don't want to hear your opinions regarding our Father's youngest children, Uriel," she said, her tone sharp and chiding. Uriel tensed at the unspoken reprimand, and Castiel felt a surge of something... relief, maybe... that her anger was focused elsewhere.
"And keep your hands off my charges, or you'll answer to me." Uriel nodded his assent, though Castiel noted that his brothers eyes were hard and angry. Ariel studied the pair of them for a long moment, offered Castiel a brief, wry sort of half-smile, then left with a swift beat of her wings.
Dean froze, green eyes wide as he took in the sight of Sammy trying to exorcise the demon. With his mind. Again. He'd sworn not to do that anymore, and despite the argument about it in the car on the way over, Dean thought he'd gotten through to him. Apparently not.
And it looked like it wasn't working too well. The demon was staggering towards his little brother, who had one hand outstretched and an expression on intense concentration on his face; blood oozed from his nose, and his breath was coming in short gasps. Sam saw him, where he stood at the end of the hall, but he didn't stop.
"No!" came a sudden cry, both outraged and horrified, and then Ariel was pushing past Dean in swift, almost feline movements; both Sam and the demon, who Dean could see was oozing black smoke, seemed to pause, and then the angel dove at Samhain, practically growling. It managed to spin in place, and Sam staggered back with wide, surprised eyes, dropping his hand and releasing his power as the demon's focus shifted.
Ariel ducked under a heavy-handed blow, moving almost too fast to follow, and slashed at the demon with the long, slightly curved silvery sword in her right hand; the weapon grazed the demon's cheek as he leaned back to avoid it, and the cut seemed to burn, flickering briefly with red light. They were both silent, though Samhain bore a snarl on his face as he shoved her back, sending her flying down the hall, towards Dean; she twisted in the air and landed on the balls of her feet, the fingertips of her free hand touching the ground for balance and her back to the shocked elder hunter, then threw herself back into the fight in a full sprint. There was a rustle, and she disappeared between one step and the next, reappearing directly behind the surprised demon and apparently losing none of her momentum.
The sword slid smoothly into Samhain's back, and the pair went down in a heap with Ariel keeping him pinned using her sword.
The fight, for all it's abruptly explosive violence, seemed to be finished, but Ariel's voice was snapping out, low and furious in a language neither brother understood, and the demon stepped up his struggles despite the flickering red light around the blade; Ariel had one hand planted on the back of the thrashing demon's head (the other keeping an iron grip on the sword), Samhain started to burn, then, red light boiling up from the inside out, and he was screaming, though if it was rage or pain, they couldn't tell.
When it was over, when Ariel finally fell silent and the demon had stopped burning, she stood up somewhat shakily and stared over her shoulder at Sam for a moment (he flinched) before turning to Dean. Her expression was a mixture of almost heartbreaking sadness and resignation; there was a rustling sound as she disappeared (taking the sword with her), leaving Sam and Dean to stare at each other across the quiet and still body of the now vanquished demon.
...One Day After Halloween
Sam was alone in the room, silently packing and trying not to think about the disappointment he'd seen in both Dean and Ariel the night before. It was bad enough, his big brother giving him that sad, almost betrayed look, but somehow it was even worse on the face of an angel. Like she'd expected better. Like God expected better...
A cold voice behind him had the young hunter whirling, pulled from his introspection. "Tomorrow is November 2nd," said Uriel, sitting on the floral-patterned green sofa in the corner, watching him. "That's an anniversary for you, right?"
Sam swallowed, more then a little nervous and his heart pumping from the sudden spike of adrenaline as he asked, "What are you doing here?"
"It's the day Azazel killed your mother. And, twenty-two years later, your girlfriend too," mused the dark-skinned angel. "Must be difficult to bear," he added, with no hint of empathy in his voice. "Yet you brazenly use the power he gave you, his profane blood pumping through your veins."
"Excuse me?" snapped Sam, temper flaring.
"You were told not to use your abilities."
"What was I supposed to do? That demon would have killed me, and my brother, and everyone," he justified. Apparently it didn't matter that he hadn't actually finished off the demon, that he'd only just barely been able to hold him off until Ariel arrived...
"You were told not to," repeated Uriel with a little shake of his head, his dark eyes hard.
"If Samhain had gotten loose in this town-"
"Been warned, twice now," interrupted the angel.
"You know... my brother was right about you. You are dicks," said Sam, glaring at the dismissive angel. Uriel turned slowly, his expression chilling, and there was a whooshing rustle; Sam flinched back as Uriel appeared, standing rather close in front of him with a coldly menacing look on his face.
"The only reason you're still alive, Sam Winchester, is because you've been useful. The moment that ceases to be true," he said, "The second you become more trouble then you're worth... one word... one... and I will turn you to dust."
Uriel stared him down for a long moment, and Sam tried to swallow the unpleasant lump in his throat even as the angel backed off a few steps, saying, "As for your brother, tell him that maybe he should climb off that high horse of his." Sam's brow furrowed slightly, and Uriel added, "Ask Dean... what he remembers from Hell."
There was another loud rustling sound, and once again Sam was alone in the motel; he sucked in a breath and tried to calm his racing heart even as he wondered what Uriel had been getting at.
Dean sat on a bench in the sunlight, watching small children playing on the colorful equipment, when a soft rustle interrupted his thoughts.
"Let me guess," he said, identifying the newly arrived angel out of the corner of his eye. "You're here for the 'I told you so.'"
There was a pause, and then a soft, gravely, "No."
Dean looked over, inwardly surprised. "Well, good, 'cause I'm really not that interested." The angel on the next bench over looked... well, a little tired, actually. "I'm not here to judge you, Dean."
"Then why are you here?"
Castiel was watching the children, and he inhaled slowly before saying, "Our orders-"
"Yeah, you know, I've had about enough of these orders of yours," Dean interrupted, irritated and tired and more then a little angry.
"Our orders," Castiel said again, raising his voice a bit and turning blue eyes to the hunter. "Were not to stop the summoning of Samhain. They were to do whatever you told us to do."
Dean blinked, then leaned forward, arms braced on his knees. "Your orders... were to follow my orders?" he asked, disbelief clearly evident.
"It was a test," clarified the angel. "To see how you would perform under... battlefield conditions, you might say." Again, Castiel looked away, towards the park. Dean stared, not sure how to respond to this revelation.
"It was a witch," he said. "Not the Tet Offensive." To his shock, Castiel actually chuckled, a smile appearing on the normally impassive face as his blue eyes followed a small blond child racing towards the swings.
"So, I uh, failed your test, huh?" Dean said to cover his surprise. "I get it. But you know what?" There was a pause, and Dean saw Castiel watching him from the corner of his eye. "If you were to wave that... magic, time-traveling wand of yours and we had to do it all over again, I'd make the same call."
Castiel was looking at him directly when he finished, expression unreadable, and Dean continued, feeling that it needed to be said. "'Cause, see, I don't know what's gonna happen when these seals are broken. Hell, I don't know what's gonna happen tomorrow." The hunter turned from the piercing blue-eyed gaze to look out at the park. "But what I do know is that this here, these kids, the swings, the trees, all of it... is still here because of my brother and me."
When he turned back to the angel, Castiel was still wearing that unreadable expression, though his eyes were still fixed on Dean.
"You misunderstand me, Dean," he said finally. "I'm not like what you think. I was praying that you would choose to save the town."
Dean's expression was a mix of surprise and half-hearted disbelief. "You were?"
"These people," said the angel, leaning forward to mirror Dean's posture, "They're all my Father's creations. They're works of art." Dean blinked, even as Castiel gazed off into the park once again.
"And yet," he added with an almost-sigh, "Even though you stopped Samhain, the seal was broken, and we are one step closer to Hell on Earth for all creation. And that's not an expression, Dean." Dean shifted uncomfortably as Castiel turned his gaze back to him. "It's literal. You of all people should... appreciate what that means."
The pair stared at each other for a long moment and Dean tried not to picture 'hell on earth', and then Castiel said, "I'll tell you something, if you promise not to tell another soul..."
Dean fought the strange, sudden urge to smile; Ariel had said something very similar before answering his questions about angels and 'the Time Before.' It never occurred to the hunter that it was probably a little strange, angels of the Lord confiding secrets in him, a human.
"Okay."
"I'm not, uh..." The angel looked down, and Dean was surprised to see him apparently searching for the words. "A hammer, as you say. I have questions. I... I have doubts. I don't know what is right and what is wrong, anymore..."
Whatever Dean had been expecting, this wasn't it. He swallowed against his suddenly dry throat; Castiel's conviction had seemed so... unshakable. This was... more then a little jarring.
"...Whether you passed or failed, here," continued the angel, apparently oblivious to Dean's shock. "But, in the coming months, you will have more decisions to make." The hunter looked up, finding a surprisingly sympathetic look on the other man's face. "I don't envy the weight that's on your shoulders, Dean. I truly don't."
Dean stared for a long moment, trying to read the angels expression, and then he made the mistake of looking out towards the park for an instant; when he looked back, Castiel was gone. Dean leaned back against the bench, wondering about their conversation. Despite the serious tone of their dialogue, Dean found himself actually relieved to find Castiel wasn't, as he had told Sam, a dick. The hunter pursed his lips in thought, and gave in to a sudden urge after looking around to make sure nobody was watching him.
"Uh, Ariel? Just a heads up, but you may want to look in on Cas."
No feathery rustle followed his whispered statement, which was fine since he hadn't actually wanted to summon the guardian; he just hoped she got the message. After all, if anyone understood about troubled little brothers, it was Dean Winchester.
AN: Bonus internet points for anyone who caught my extremely vague reference to The Prophecy. (Oh dear, I'm not showing my age, am I? It's not so much a reference as borrowed imagery. That counts!)
I originally intended to cover S04E08 - Wishful Thinking, too, but there was just so much angelic fun in the halloween episode that I figured it was better not to drag it out. Review! Do it! You totally want to.
ps, The 'jaguar in a cello' bit is not mine. I once saw someone use that phrase to describe Benedict Cumberbatch's voice (if you don't know who that is, I feel sad for you). Anyway, Ariel doesn't sound like Benedict, but in my mind, her voice is rather lower on the register then the average woman. Think Kathleen Turner.
