Title:Seraphs and Phoenix Wings (21/?)
Author: daksgirl
Rating: R
Pairings:None really
Genre: Family/ Drama
Spoilers: None!
Warnings: Non-con past situation (not sexual, but still a violation without consent), swearing, dysfunctional families, past death of minor OC character.
Word Count: 7,120 (HAHA WUT)
Summary: Gabriel is a three year old in disguise, Crowley is grumpy, a horseman drops in, and there's still one big bombshell for Castiel.
A/N: I am a butt. Sorry for the almost two week delay in posting this chapter (WTF self!), I just suck. So here's a mega long chapter to make up for it! Woohoo! We're nearing the end of the story (I'm thinking 5 ish more chapters? We'll see), and I want to thank you all again for reading and reviewing. In fact, I'd like some feedback! I know at the beginning of this story I said there wouldn't be any graphic Sabriel (coz I know it's a pairing not a lot of people like), but I maaay have planned out a Sabriel scene *pervy snort* so what I'm wondering is would you guys like to have a Sabriel scene? Sexy times and all? Or would you prefer to keep it just as is and just have Sam/Gabe friendship? Leave me a review with yay or nay! If no-one says anything then it's going in by default. Because I like smexy times. :P
…..
It had been three days since the angels had rescued Crowley, and the demon was slowly but surely healing from his ordeal. Under Bobby's watchful eye, Crowley had been confined to bed for the past two days in order to give his legs and arms a chance to recover. Unfortunately for everyone else, the demon spent most of it complaining. Loudly.
The previous evening he had ignored Bobby's barks for compliance, and rebelliously hobbled his way down the stairs to the study, somehow determined to make himself useful. The strain of moving on his still healing muscles however proved too much, and the demon managed to reopen several wounds, bleeding across Bobby's floor.
Suffice to say, the demon wouldn't be moving for the rest of the day. At Bobby's request (maybe yelling was more accurate), Gabriel had swaddled the demon's limbs in stiff casts, preventing him from any more rebellious escapades. As much as Crowley didn't want to, he had to rest, and he sat sullenly on the couch; limbs stuck out from his body stiffly as he glowered at anyone who looked his way. Of course the image was somewhat ruined by the fact that Gabriel had made the casts a bright neon pink, and shortly after that had found a marker pen. He and Balthazar may have been a little too enthusiastic with their artistic abilities.
Crowley sighed heavily, wriggling his hips against the couch cushion, his stiff arms waving in front of him. A grinning flying phallus winked back at him from his left arm, and he scowled at it as Gabriel snickered softly across the room.
"Problem?" the archangel asked innocently, and Balthazar threw him a conspiring grin. Crowley stuck his tongue out at them both childishly, unable to gesture rudely with his healing fingers.
"I am itchy in places I didn't know existed," he said grumpily. "It's bloody irritating." With another furious wiggle, the demon slumped back against the couch cushions forlornly. Bobby was seated beside him, nose buried in yet another musty book, and the hunter muttered something under his breath as he shook his head.
Crowley glanced slyly at him, and coughed politely. "Bobby darling, I don't suppose you would-"
"Hell no." Bobby grunted, eyes still reading the tiny inked writing of the book in his lap. "I aint scratchin' or rubbin' any body parts. Especially if it's the bit I think it is."
Crowley huffed to himself. The scar stretched across his throat was shiny and pink now; healing like the rest of him. "What's a demon gotta do to get an itch scratched around here? I'm going insane!" He wriggled furiously, shaking the couch and jerking Balthazar seated precariously on one sofa arm. The angel looked over bemusedly, crossing his arms.
"Well maybe if you bought me dinner first," the blonde smirked.
Fenrir lay on the floor by Crowley and Bobby's feet, and the wolf raised his head interestedly as Raphael entered the living room, several books in her arms. The archangel had been in a constant state of motion the past few days, moving between heaven and Bobby's at the blink of an eye. She had brought some old tomes from heaven's own library and Sam had nearly gone into cardiac arrest at the sight of their dust ridden covers.
If he were the possessive type, Gabriel might be jealous.
Raphael was reluctant to converse with the humans, but managed to have a few civil conversations with Bobby, and seemed to enjoy Sam's company in her own way; answering his wide eyed questions without too much glaring or clipped words. No-one had been smote in any case, so Gabriel considered it a success.
Raphael paused, shifting the books over to the crook of one arm as she approached the motionless Crowley. She stared down at him with hard eyes. "You have an issue you wish to discuss demon?"
Crowley shrank under her matronly glare, any sarcastic or witty reply dying on his lips. "I um…itchy…nose."
Raphael glared down at him, before reaching out wordlessly and scratching his nose lightly. Good deed accomplished for the day, she turned back around, heading into the study to deposit her books on the desk. Crowley stared after her bewilderedly as Gabriel and Balthazar struggled to contain their giggles.
Oh Father it felt good. Gabriel's grace felt strong again, happiness humming just beneath his skin. His family felt complete, and for the first time in many years, the archangel was genuinely content. Playfully he stretched out one wing, buffeting Castiel's bowed head. The seraph blinked, his attention finally drawn from the text he had been studying with a frown for the past hour.
"Gabriel," he acknowledged in that dry way of his. It made Gabriel want to rough him up some, tease and poke and tickle until his brother was rolling on the floor laughing like he used to. Judging from the glares that Winchester was giving him though, that would be a bad idea. Whether he knew it or not, it seemed Dean had marked the angel as his, and Gabriel's blatant touching of claimed property would not be welcome.
Dammit.
"I'm bored. And we've been researching forever and we're no closer to defeating Lucifer than we were before. Research sucks," he complained.
There had been no further word on Lucifer. It seemed the devil had retreated with his forces, practically vanishing off the radar. There were no reports of killings, no weird power surges or storms, hell no crop circles or cow stampedes. It was almost like the world was…normal. Of course they were hanging with the Winchesters here, so trouble couldn't be far off. But for the time being, Gabriel could cope with normal. Normal was good. Just…boring.
Sam didn't look up from his hunched position further over on the floor, hair obscuring his face as he leant over one of heaven's books, chin resting in his hand. Gabriel knew the one, and was tempted to tell him about the raunchy sex scene on page 1826, but decided against it. Let the kid find it himself. Gabriel bet he'd turn a lovely shade of pink.
"Research doesn't suck," Sam grumbled, offended that his mistress had been so obviously slandered. "You're just not doing it right."
Gabriel snorted, stretching out his foot to nudge Sam's knee. The movement jolted Sam's elbow where it rested on his thigh, and losing his support, Sam's chin nearly slammed into the book in his lap. Gabriel gleefully shuffled away as Sam took a halfhearted swipe at him with one arm. "Well not all of us get off from reading boring books Sammy-boy. I lived this stuff. I know this is a waste of time."
Dean ran a hand through his short hair, leaning back in his chair. "As much as it physically hurts me to say…I agree with Gabriel." Gabriel made sure to blow the human a kiss and a wink for that, relishing the pinched look of irritability the Winchester directed at him. Winchester's were just too much fun to play with.
Raphael appeared, silently smacking Gabriel over the head with one wing as she stood beside him, hands clasped loosely behind her back.
At first, Gabriel hadn't been sure what to do with this new Raphael. She had always just been a grumpy older angel who had no sense of humor and a terrible interpretation of the word fun. She had been a protector, a soldier, a leader when heaven had none. Now it was almost like….she was trying to be a sister. They had been nothing but archangels to each other for so long, that trying to build something else, something…worthwhile, was hard. But Gabriel relished it, relished the presence of her, and could even begin loving her for just trying.
It had started out rocky, Gabriel's protective instincts when it came to Castiel were a little overbearing and he was mistrustful and unwilling to forgive Raphael for the whole exploding thing, but slowly he was managing to let her in. She had been unsure at first, awkward even, as to what she was allowed to do or say, and briefly Gabriel had considered what life must have been like for her. Stuck with two older brothers who only saw each other, and a younger brother who just goofed off all the time and made fun of her, life couldn't have been easy for Raphael. He regretted not taking the time to get to know her before, before Lucifer's fall. But they were making up for it now, taking it one day at a time.
Chastened from his teasing, Gabriel arched his wings in surrender, and Raphael hid a smile, brushing her own against his gently. It was crazy how much humans missed, being unable to see angel wings. So much talking went on that they didn't know about.
Like Castiel for instance.
Gabriel glanced over at his brother bemusedly. Castiel may be considered by some to be stoic or emotionless, but the seraph had always had the most expressive wings. Even now they twitched and shook, always, always arching towards Dean, preening before him and displaying. It was kind of embarrassing sometimes, just how obvious his brother was in his affection for the human, and a shame Dean couldn't see.
Somehow, Gabriel figured he knew. Humans had their own ways of posturing too you know.
Bobby sighed heavily, putting his book aside. "Yeah. Even these books from heaven 'aint got much to go on. No telling what that bastard is even up to right now. Could have given up."
"Alas, I believe that would be wishful thinking Robert."
The voice was not one of their own, and it took a beat before the room burst into a flurry of motion and shouting. Bobby lurched off the couch, reaching for the shotgun hidden beneath it; Sam and Dean simultaneously moving as one, fists raised and an exorcism ready on their tongues. Castiel had been roughly pushed up against the wall, blue eyes wide and shocked as Raphael and Gabriel stood in front of him, angel blades drawn and ready. Balthazar and Fenrir hovered in front of a surprised looking Crowley, Fenrir's ears flattened against his skull and teeth bared.
There was a horseman in the study.
Death leant against Bobby's desk, one bony hand grasping his cane against his side. He peered at them all in turn interestedly, before looking around the study, clicking his tongue.
"So this is it? This is where the infamous Winchesters and their pet angels hang out when they're not trying to kill the devil?" Death tapped his cane against the floor. "Fascinating."
Dean was standing slightly in front of Sam, and took an aggressive step forward. "And just who the hell are you?"
Death sniffed at him, wrinkling his nose. "Whatever happened to common manners these days?"
Sam glared over his brother's head. "Suppose it went out the window when monsters turn up at houses unannounced."
Death stared at him a moment, before smiling widely. It reminded Gabriel of a shark; same black eyes and sinister grin. A killing machine.
"Well aren't you just a hoot and a half? I'm not a monster boy, I am Death."
Bobby had managed to get the shotgun, and held it tightly in his hands. He jerked his head at the horseman, mouth a grim line. "I don't care if you're freaking Mother Teresa. Get off my property you goddamn murderer."
Death pushed away from the desk, resting both hands on his cane serenely. "I understand that my brothers were involved with some unpleasantness. My apologies on their behalf."
"Unpleasantness?" Dean demanded, eyes flashing angrily. "They killed our friends! They helped Lucifer get his hands on Eve!"
Death shrugged one shoulder. "My condolences. But my brothers were under Lucifer's influence. They cannot be held accountable."
"Like hell they can't!" Bobby bellowed, hefting the shotgun further against his chest. "Because of you horsemen I lost two of my family. And you dare show up here spoutin' off shit about condolences?"
Something flickered in those flat black eyes, and Raphael took a cautioning step forward, angel blade still drawn. Death spared her a quick glance, before turning back to Bobby. "We all die Robert. It was unfortunate that your female companions were killed." Those long fingers clenched reflexively on the cane. "I am not here to barter words with you. I am here to honor my agreement with the angels. To stop Lucifer."
Bobby didn't back down, but lowered his shotgun slightly. "What is my house, a monster convention?" he muttered.
Gabriel was still in front of Castiel, wings slightly spread. Death nodded to him. "I am not here to reap. Merely…talk."
Dean wasn't willing to back down so easily. The human crossed his arms angrily, body still tense and read for a fight. "So talk."
Thankfully Death seemed willing to forgive the human his blatant disrespect. Gabriel was grateful, if the horseman so chose to, he could kill them all with only a touch. Gabriel relaxed slightly, moving to stand beside Raphael who watched the horseman with grave eyes.
"Glad you could make it. Sorry we're all a little…jumpy," he quipped.
Death quirked an eyebrow. "So I noticed." The horseman leaned back on his heels, sighing. "I have spent the last few days with my brothers recuperating. Now fully healed, I decided to see what our beloved Satan was up to."
"And Eve," Raphael interrupted. "In many ways that creature is more dangerous than Lucifer himself."
Death glared over at her irritably. "Really? I hadn't noticed, what with her ripping an entirely new monster out of me."
Flustered, Raphael's wings jerked, and she dropped her eyes to floor respectfully.
With one more pointed look, Death continued, stepping over to the window. "As I was saying. Lucifer and Eve have been busy. I suppose they have to be, trying to take over the world is hard work."
Sam looked a little winded, as if only just realizing who it was that spoke to them. Death. The Death. One and only. "But…we haven't heard anything. Nothing on the news, no signs, just…nothing."
Death turned to him. "Really? Maybe you're not watching the right news channel."
Balthazar shifted nervously, wings shivering. "You mean…"
Fenrir barked, voice guttural and barely audible through the anger in his voice. "Lucifer has moved his soldiers."
Death shrugged nonchalantly. "The whole world doesn't revolve just around your own little patch of dirt you know."
Bobby looked shocked, shotgun forgotten. "You mean he's not…in this country?"
"Try, not on this plane of existence," Death said, rocking on his heels. "But technically, also not in this country, yes. It's begun you see, for real. Winner takes all, loser…well. Hello end of the world."
Raphael shook her head furiously. "No. I would know if he was, and he would not be so foolish. To march now…surely he does not have the power…"
Death smiled at her condescendingly. "What's wrong little angel? Not prepared? That's what he's counting on," he clucked his tongue. "With Eve working overtime and more monsters amassing by the day, he's decided to go for it. What better time really? Your forces are spread so thin, your allies so few."
Gabriel shook himself out of the sequence of horrific scenarios that were suddenly playing in his head. "No games Death. Say it plainly."
"Very well," Death sighed. "Lucifer has marched on Bethlehem. His amassed forces will be there within the next day, and he will launch his assault on heaven by tomorrow night."
The room was deadly quiet. Raphael looked like someone had punched her in the solar plexus.
"But…I…I would have felt it…" she stuttered.
Death watched her with lifeless eyes. "He is more powerful than you give him credit for, Raphael. You forget that he is no longer an archangel. The years of corruption and hatred have taken their toll; Lucifer is a new creature. And with the power of his army Eve has given him…he has remained hidden from the angels."
"Bethlehem?" Sam recovered enough to ask. Gabriel was kind of proud. "What does that have to do with taking over heaven?"
"It didn't originally," Death turned away from Raphael. "Angels, and arch ones in particular, need human vessels in order to walk the earth. That was your whole plan wasn't it Raphael? That the Winchesters would offer themselves as vessels and the two biggest feather brains the world has ever seen, could battle it out on earth."
Raphael could only nod dumbly and Death chuckled slightly to himself. "But of course, Lucifer rebelled. Vessels are weak, confining and squishy things. He found a way to eliminate the middle man so to speak."
Gabriel felt slightly hysterical at what Death was implying. His mouth felt disconnected from his brain, so of course he just blurted out what he usually did; inappropriate humor. "So Sam doesn't have to be the devil's butt monkey?"
Sam emitted some rather alarming, strangled choking sounds, and Death threw the archangel a withering glare.
"A rather uncouth way of putting it, but yes."
Dean was shaking his head. "Um…what? Bethlehem? No vessels? Is Jesus gonna punch the devil in the face or something?"
Castiel stepped around Gabriel, wings for once still and eyes heavy with worry. "It was where the civil war was fought Dean, where Lucifer was cast down. It is the place where the link between heaven, earth and hell is the most tenuous. It was no coincidence the Son of God was born there."
Gabriel took a deep shuddering breath. "Vessels aren't strictly needed there; either for angels, or demons. Lucifer won't need a vessel." He could see the relief in Dean's eyes, the sudden realization that Sam wouldn't be sacrificed to save the world.
It didn't last long. The hunter then turned to Castiel, eyes wide with worry. "Not that I'm complaining that Satan is gonna leave Sam alone but…I thought he needed Cas."
Death turned to look at the seraph fully. There was something critical in his eyes, and Gabriel felt a surge of protectiveness for his fledgling. "The loss of us horsemen unsettled Lucifer. He underestimated you, angel. He fears that if he delays much longer you will summon the allies you need and somehow defeat him," Death stifled a chuckle. "Perhaps you will. Lucifer desires you greatly, yes, but you Castiel, are not necessary to overthrow heaven. He will simply capture you after heaven is overthrown. It will not be difficult then."
Crowley had been silent during the whole exchange, but now spoke up, bright pink limbs waving around. "Why can't you just kill Lucifer?" he asked. "You're Death."
"There are rules," Death snapped, eyes still trained on Castiel. "Rules that bind even me. Waltzing up to the devil and killing him is one of the peskier ones."
Balthazar snorted, arching an eyebrow. "You can't tango instead?"
Death didn't even deign him with a glare. "If you are to defeat Lucifer, then you need the only thing that can stop him. The one and only creature in existence who can cast Lucifer back into his perpetual time out."
Raphael's whole body stiffened considerably. "No. You can't mean-"
"We need Michael," Death ignored her. "I can only do so much and in the end no matter how hard you fight, if you can't get Lucifer back in that cage, then it's all over. Eve can supply him with an endless stream of monsters, and with the…" The horseman grimaced, cane creaking beneath his tightening grip. "…things she made from us, she has a considerable advantage."
"And how do we kill Eve?" Bobby asked exasperatedly. "Nothing can kill her except a damn phoenix and we have no idea how to find one!"
Death looked long and hard at Castiel. It was creepy, and Gabriel felt his chest tighten, his wings puffing. Death seemed oblivious. "One does not find a Phoenix," the horseman said quietly. "It finds you."
Dean threw his hands up in the air angrily, eyes rolling. "Well thank you Captain Cryptic. That was very helpful."
Death smirked, finally turning away from Castiel. "I try."
Raphael was distressed, her wings shaking as she looked at Death with blank eyes. "But…Michael he…he is not what he was," she stammered. "I doubt he has the strength."
Death looked at her sharply. "Then we all die. Michael has to stop Lucifer. So go get him."
"I cannot!" Raphael erupted, wings snapping outwards and nearly knocking Gabriel over. "He refuses to leave the library and has not spoken to anyone in over a century, even the Metatron could not coax one word from him! He looks but does not see, hears but does not listen." Raphael dropped her head, eyes squeezed shut. "He exists but does not live. He cast Lucifer down once; you cannot ask that of him again."
Death was not moved. "I can and I am. Michael has to fight."
Raphael shook her head. "He will not listen. Do you not think I have tried? I have sought guidance from him many a time, yet each time he…" she swallowed. "It would be better if he had been killed during the battle. For what he is now…is but a shadow."
Gabriel felt cold inside. Michael, heaven's most loyal and passionate, heaven's most powerful archangel…reduced to nothing? It seemed impossible. "What are you talking about? Ok he was as screwed up as the rest of us after the war, but he was…relatively alright when I left! At least...I think he was..."
Raphael shot him a dark look. "It has been many years since then Gabriel. Time has taken its toll upon our brother."
Death was staring creepily at Castiel again. "Perhaps you should send the seraph."
Everyone paused at that, turning their glances towards Castiel, who looked like a deer caught in the headlights. "Why me? If Michael will not listen to Raphael, then he most certainly will not listen to a lowly soldier!"
"Yeah!" Gabriel chimed in. Raphael however was looking at Death, eyes wide and questioning. Apparently finding what she was looking for in those blank eyes, she turned slowly.
"Death is right. You should go and speak to him, Castiel," she said slowly.
"Why?" Dean demanded, striding forward to stand in front of Castiel aggressively. "Why does Cas have to go? I think he's risked enough for you freaking angels."
"Look around you," Death said bemusedly, gesturing around the room. "You're standing in a room that's mostly populated by supernatural creatures. You've got a demon, Nordic God, archangels, humans and now a horseman." He smirked slightly. "And who do we have to thank for all that? One little seraph who just couldn't take an order."
"I did not do it alone!" Castiel said fiercely, trying to step around Dean who merely nudged him back with a shoulder. Battle for who could protect who apparently. "I have never even spoken to Michael! What would I even say? Gabriel-" His eyes were pleading as he turned to the archangel. "Surely you are a better choice than I."
There was something he was missing here. Something big, going by the looks in both Raphael and Death's eyes. What did they know that he didn't? Gabriel frowned.
"Look kiddo, I don't like it. And no-one's gonna make you," Gabriel added firmly, looking pointedly at Raphael and Death. "But Death is right, Michael could stop this whole mess. If there's a chance that you might be able to talk sense into that thick head of his, then I say go for it. Michael always just thought I was immature anyways."
Raphael's eyes thanked him silently as she moved forward, resting a hand on Castiel's shoulder. "I ask you to trust me on this brother. Go to Michael. Convince him to see reason. If he does not…"She squared her shoulders. "Then may God grant us a battle that will be remembered."
Balthazar looked over at her in surprise, Fenrir still growling unhappily by his side. "I thought you said God was dead."
Raphael smiled down at Castiel, eyes soft. "Perhaps I simply needed something else to believe in."
….
The library was one of the few buildings that had survived heaven's war, and for that Castiel had been thankful. It was one of the few links to a past that seemed more like a dream now, and he had clung to it. He found it familiar; it's smooth alabaster columns, high ceilings and beautiful glass windows that would put any cathedral on earth to shame. Before the war it had been pristine, but afterwards it slowly started to show the ravages of time. Dust began to settle, book spines began to crack, even cobwebs began to form; though spiders were not something that existed in heaven. Castiel only loved it more, because it was the imperfections that gave it character, that gave him something to truely love.
As a younger angel, he had spent countless hours reading through the books, from topics as mundane as how to prepare a hog roast, to the great battles of men. He had loved the stories of man the most; the struggles, the triumphs. The library was overseen by Maoin, an older angel who could often be seen tottering up and down the vast library isles, his form greying and bent. In later years he took to wearing spectacles that always balanced precariously on the end of his nose.
Castiel could still recall the old angel's stern glare if he heard the slightest hint of talking. When Castiel was very young, Balthazar would bring him to the library, simply to cause trouble. The two of them would run up and down the aisles, shrieking and laughing as Maoin followed; robes hitched high over his scraggly knees as he hobbled after them, yelling. If Castiel closed his eyes, he could hear the echoes of Balthazar's laughter, Maoin's gruff bellows for order.
Maoin had been killed almost a century ago. Azazel, followed by a group of demons, had attempted to steal into heaven and take a text that had many arcane rituals. They failed of course, but Maoin was murdered as he attempted to defend his books. Shortly after that Castiel stopped coming to the library, too busy with his duties in the garrison.
Without a Librarian, the library fell into disrepair. Maoin's power no longer kept the books organized, and now shelves lay empty; books strewn about haphazardly and untouched beneath layers of ancient dust and cobwebs. It seemed Castiel was not the only one to not return to the library since Maoin's death.
Only one angel now visited the library, and he had not left for many years. Castiel's footsteps seemed absurdly loud in the quiet stillness as he slowly made his way down countless aisles. His grace was aflutter in his chest, nervous and frightened. He was going to try and speak with Michael. Michael. The right hand of God.
He could remember seeing the archangel once. Just once, in all of his time in heaven. Michael had been a beautiful but terrifying figure, with huge blazing wings of gold. If Castiel had been frightened of Lucifer as a fledgling, he was absolutely terrified of Michael. He hid behind Gabriel and had refused to come out until the most powerful being, next to God, had left.
How times had changed.
The heart of the library was an open area, complete with soft chairs, old mahogany desks and a large ornate fireplace. Maoin had loved Earth traditions, and though many angels had shaken their heads and rolled their eyes, the old angel had kept some for himself. Now however, the fireplace was cold; filled with ash and soot. Leaning against its hearth, as chilled and forgotten as the rest of the library, was the very angel he was looking for.
Castiel paused, his wings shaking. "Michael."
The name echoed around them, whispered as if into the quiet of a tomb. The figure did not move, leaning more heavily on one arm. Castiel found himself licking his lips nervously, taking a step closer. Raphael said Michael had not spoken to anyone in almost a century. But he had to try. The world was at stake.
"Mi-"
"Castiel."
He was ashamed to say he jumped, wings jerking wildly. Michael had spoken. And it had been his name.
Michael's voice was quiet, coarse from misuse. His wings, once so beautiful and gold, alight with flames of holy fire, were now unkempt and dull; not even shimmering. They slumped lifelessly down his back; feathers twisted and encrusted with dust.
"Castiel," he repeated, slowly unfolding himself from the hearth. "Seraph. You came." He pulled away slowly from the fireplace, turning his terrible empty gaze towards Castiel.
This was horrifyingly uncomfortable. Castiel forced himself up straight, trying in vain to control his distressed wings. "Yes, Michael. I came because…because…" His mouth was dry, his tongue like sandpaper as he struggled to overcome his unease.
Michael had once had eyes so beautiful and terrible to behold, that only archangels could look directly at them. Now they were blank, flat and white. His dark hair was wild and greasy, cheeks hollowed. Castiel floundered to say something, anything.
"Lucifer," he finally managed, wincing as he said it. "Lucifer marches on Bethlehem, Michael."
There was nothing. No glimmer of recognition or concern in those flat eyes. Michael stared at him sightlessly, blinking once. Castiel struggled on, taking a step closer.
"He seeks to overthrow heaven. And he has with him an army of the damned."
Again, Michael merely blinked at him slowly, wings rustling slightly in the silence. Castiel could hear the joints creaking, groaning in protest, and he wondered absently how long it had been since the archangel had even seen the sky, let alone flown in it.
"He will lay waste to everything," Castiel continued desperately, his voice strengthening. "Michael you must help us defeat him. Only you can cast him back to his prison, if you do not-"
Michael sighed, the sound so tired and forlorn, that Castiel stopped talking immediately, watching the archangel with wide eyes as Michael took a step forward, one weak arm slowly rising. Castiel couldn't help himself; he took a step back, away from the sad creature that had once been Michael, the first archangel.
"If I do not?" Heaven's once most powerful angel echoed tonelessly, dropping his arm. His voice was soft, wisp-like. As frail and raspy as the ancient paper that lined the books around them. "What will you do Castiel? Drag me to earth?"
Castiel felt his temper flare, feathers bristling. He had thought that he would feel small, insignificant when faced with Michael, a tiny mouse facing down a tiger. Instead, it was a mouse he had found. "If I must. Many will die-"
Michael sighed again, the sound barely disturbing the hushed silence of the library. "You mean the humans. It is…unfortunate."
Castiel's wings flared at that, spreading wide above his head. "Unfortunate? Unfortunate?" He demanded, his voice cracking through the silence. "They fight and die to save everything our Father created and you dare claim them unfortunate?"
Michael shuffled back towards the fireplace. "I do not expect you to understand, seraph."
"Then explain it to me!" his voice stirred several loose pages resting on the desks nearby into motion, the ancient parchment rustling as it drifted to the floor. "You can stop this Michael. You can stop him."
Michael shook his head slowly, running his frail fingers along the mantle of the fireplace. "No, Castiel. He can never be stopped. Lucifer cannot die just as I. We are doomed to battle this war forever, good versus evil…our penance for past sins."
"Then…then help me confine him once again!" Castiel spluttered, striding forward. "Put him back in hell where he belongs, this cannot continue. God would surely-"
"God is dead," Michael said sharply, startling Castiel into silence. "He died many years ago. Perhaps it was His plan, perhaps not. It is not of import now."
Castiel could only stand there in stunned silence. "You…you cannot truly believe that. Not…not you."
Michael turned to face him again, and when Michael reached out this time, Castiel stood his ground, allowing the archangel to touch his shoulder briefly, resisting the urge to back away.
"Oh Castiel," The archangel murmured. "Little seraph. Lucifer was right. You are indeed very special."
The scathing reply died on Castiel's tongue, leaving a bitter aftertaste of ash. Why would two archangels be discussing him? Michael dropped his arm, and tilted his head slightly, studying Castiel's face with his dead eyes.
"I believed the night you were born, to be the worst of my life." The archangel's wings rustled again. "I was wrong."
Castiel felt frozen; his heart stopped in his chest, the blood in his human body screeching to a halt, the very nerves in his brain seizing up in shock. What…
Michael smiled, but it was a broken and horrible thing to behold. "Raphael descended to defend the prophet Chuck, which you instigated, to give Dean Winchester time to stop his brother. You were killed. Raphael scattered the pieces of your grace across the cosmos. It was…impressive."
Castiel could only nod, finding all speech had deserted him, fled in fear of what it perhaps already knew. The dusty air pressed in on him, choking him and he struggled to draw in a breath, eyes wide.
Michael reached up slowly, running stiff and rough fingertips across Castiel's cheek. "I pulled the pieces of you back together, Castiel. I rebuilt you just as you were."
He was unsure of how much time passed as they stood there, Castiel's eyes wide and disbelieving, Michael's own lifeless. Finally, he found his voice and courage again, and Castiel swallowed hard.
"Why…why would you do such a thing?" his voice was tiny and faint, and Michael tilted his head again, studying his face.
"It was not difficult. Your grace was once a part of mine, very long ago."
The library tilted. Castiel couldn't remember which way was up, which was down. Couldn't remember where or who he was for one long terrifying moment. Michael's fingers were suddenly digging into his shoulder, bringing him back, and with a jolt Castiel realized Michael was still talking. Now that the archangel had broken his century of silence, there would be no stopping what he needed to say.
"Lucifer was always…difficult. When Father told us of his plans for mankind, Lucifer could not bear the thought of one day having to bow to them. He believed that mankind could be tamed, if only angels were not so bound to God."
Castiel felt his legs give out, Michael's hand on his shoulder the only thing keeping him from tumbling to the ground in a heap of disbelief.
"When fledglings began to be born, Lucifer saw something the rest of us did not. He saw an opportunity to create life without God. A gift that was never meant to be given to angels. Instead of waiting for God to request a fledgling from him, one night, he decided to make his own. Lucifer decided to defy God."
He didn't want to hear anymore. He couldn't. But Michael's voice continued, toneless and quiet.
"It was right here, Castiel. I was reading a text that man had not written yet, a battle that had yet to be fought. I found such things…exciting then I suppose. I was unprepared you see, I never expected…"
Michael trailed off, looking around himself and blinking slowly as he dropped his hand from Castiel's shoulder. "Well. He took something he should not have. He ripped it out of me, Castiel. Perhaps if he had asked I would have given it to him, if only he had asked…" The archangel's eyes were glassy and distant as he turned away from Castiel, returning to his space by the fireplace.
"I loved him so much," he murmured. "I should have…if I only..."
Somehow, Castiel found it within himself to take a step forward on his shaking legs. Michael didn't look at him, though his wings gave a groaning jerk. "Do you know what he did in that moment Castiel?" Michael asked quietly. "In that moment of blasphemy, Lucifer murdered God. I felt it. God died the moment you were born."
The words echoed around the empty library, and Castiel's chest ached with a fire so intense he dimly wondered why he wasn't consumed by it.
"I was enraged," Michael continued. "For one moment, as you lay there in Lucifer's arms I…I considered…" The papers around them rustled in sympathy. "But I could not. You were so small, a tiny crying little thing and so very…perfect."
"Heaven," Castiel croaked, startled by his own voice. "Heaven would have known if God died."
Michael turned to him again, and Castiel had to look away, finding those eyes too unbearable. "One would think. But it did not. I can only assume our Father knew what Lucifer would do…and did not stop it."
Castiel hung his head, clenching his fists. No. No it couldn't be. "Why did…why did you not tell the others?" he managed, voice thick with emotion.
Michael exhaled softly. "Tell them that God was dead? What would that have achieved Castiel? Panic. Anarchy. Father had so many plans already, I could not see those die as well."
"We deserved to know!" Castiel said fiercely, eyes still trained on the floor. "Perhaps this could have been prevented."
"I took you away," Michael whispered. "I gave you to Gabriel. Good, loyal Gabriel. I could never let Lucifer have you; he can only love himself. I watched you grow into a fine young angel. You are not him, Castiel. I am…proud."
His grace was a molten weight in his chest, heavy and fearful. "You and Lucifer…you fought because of me. Of my existence."
"For a while," Michael said truthfully. "But it was because of him, Castiel. He was impulsive, rash and arrogant. He could not understand that what he had done was wrong. He wished to create more fledglings once he saw you were different than most. You were so inquisitive, so curious, so…bright."
Michael smiled slightly, a sad and lost thing amongst the library of the forgotten. "I vowed to prevent him from doing such a thing again. His hatred of mankind grew, like the infection within a wound, and to protect both heaven and earth, I cast him into hell. I believed that to be the end, for he could not access the grace of another angel to attempt such a thing again."
Castiel thought briefly of Gabriel. Of the sad twisted creature lying discarded on a motel room floor. Lucifer could not be allowed to do so again.
"He seeks to use me," Castiel murmured quietly. "You must stop him Michael. Before he destroys us all."
"I am tired Castiel," Michael said wearily. "Lucifer is so much more powerful than I now. Perhaps this was God's intention. Everything must end, seraph, even earth."
"Not this way!" Castiel's voice cracked, eyes stinging as he jerked his face back up. "Not like this! Please Michael, come with me. Help us fight. We will stop him."
Michael's blank eyes were sorrowful as he gazed at the angel before him. "I am sorry Castiel. I wish…I wish things had been different. I would ask that you stay here with me, but I believe I already know your answer."
Castiel could only manage a tiny nod as he looked away again, wings curling around himself. He would never leave the humans to their fate. He would never leave Dean.
Michael moved towards him again, resting his hands on Castiel's bowed shoulders. "You will die Castiel," he murmured. "Either in battle, or after; when Lucifer reduces your grace to nothing, and you are but a shadow of yourself. Either way, you will die a mortal death, in agony and suffering."
Castiel drew himself up to look his brother fully in the face, gritting his jaw. "Then I will die. I go to die with my family, and I will do it proudly." He pulled away, ignoring the grief pounding against his ribcage as he watched Michael's face go slack and blank once again. His words were sharp and angry lashing out to match the swirling confusion in his grace. "Long may you live here in safety, brother."
Michael turned away, resuming his slumped pose by the fireplace. "I will pray for you Castiel. Though I fear such things are futile now."
Castiel was gone before the archangel could finish speaking, and Michael continued to gaze into the empty fireplace as the library settled back into silence around him.
His words were only audible to him, but he spoke them truthfully, with a depth of emotion the archangel had not felt for many a year.
"Goodbye Castiel, my son."
…..