Today was a really good day.

Zachariah had informed Michael about the raid on the resistance. They easily penetrated their defenses and from there, everything became even easier. The guards were overwhelmed, the guests carried relatively no weapons and those who tried to engage the angels in close-quarter combat did not stand a chance. If some fled, it did not matter as most of them were killed and others were captured. Those who fled had their morale crushed to an all-time low.

Half of the high-ranking members who were present were confirmed to have died; the others were still at large. Their informant had told the angels one group had left on a mission and some wouldn't be at the party; nobody told him where those people had gone or were. They hadn't died, but they would be accounted for when they returned or showed their faces. According to their informant, they had managed to kill the leaders who attended – all but one. He described how the leaders looked, but his descriptions were so over the top and contained such flowery language, even when spoken, that none of the angels who heard it were even certain they killed those leaders.

Michael was content with the information Zachariah had provided. There was one thing, however, Zachariah had not mentioned yet and Michael did not even seem to think about either.

After informing Michael about the raid, Zachariah returned to his office and asked Uriel to come over. He needed to discuss with Uriel the fate of the fallen angel who had so foolishly chosen to side with the resistance.

After the raid, Zachariah had sent Uriel back to the site to verify whether Castiel had truly died. Uriel already had said Castiel was bleeding out on the resistance floor and had fallen unconscious, but Zachariah was not satisfied. He needed to know whether Castiel still had a pulse. Having Uriel go back to check it out would verify this. Zachariah, being so high up the hierarchy, would not be seen in the ruins if he could send someone else.

It did not take long before Uriel presented himself before Zachariah. There was no emotion on his face, but a fierceness in his eyes. He did not take a seat; Zachariah did not invite him to. This visit did not warrant his guest sitting down.

"Uriel," Zachariah said. He stared at the angel without blinking. "Did you check the premises?"

Uriel convincingly nodded once. "I have."

"Is Castiel dead?"

"Yes." Uriel stared right at Zachariah. "He's gone."

A grin broke on Zachariah's face. "Excellent."

He stepped from behind his desk to congratulate Uriel. It was a shame Castiel could not have been convinced to return, but his death was now something to be celebrated. Uriel seemed to want to leave as quickly as possible. Zachariah did not mind. He had done a great job the past few days and deserved some time off.

While Uriel's work was done, Zachariah's was far from over. He had a resistance pest to take care of.

More specifically, he had the only resistance leader they captured to deal with. This leader was currently in the basement, held in such an uncomfortable position only unconsciousness would bring rest. It was hot at times, cold at others, all regulated by Zachariah, to create the most discomfort possible for their prisoner.

Zachariah smiled in glee when he saw the resistance leader in this discomfort. He glared daggers at the angels and it seemed Zachariah's presence was an even bigger incentive to escape. He hung from the ceiling iron shackles attached to his wrists. They cut in his flesh and he clung his fists. The tips of his feet barely touched the freezing ground, barely able to stand to relieve his arms. Sweat dripped off his face and blood from previous beatings stuck to his skin, forming reddish-brown sickly patches.

The sight not only amused Zachariah, but he also pitied the boy. Zach knew angel blood ran through his veins. Sooner rather than later, his powers would be awakened. If his mentor had not dragged him into this senseless war, the angels would have welcomed him and his brother into their ranks. But they were too dangerous now and needed to be taken down.

"Hello," Zachariah said when the resistance leader, called Dean, had calmed down enough to carry a conversation. Dean did not respond; not yet. He stared in fury, almost daring the senior angel to let him out of those chains, to fight. It was foolish because Zachariah would win.

Zachariah sat down in the chair positioned in front of Dean, to taunt him rather than for personal comfort.

"I'm going to ask you a question, and you will answer," Zachariah proposed. Dean didn't say anything, so Zachariah considered the silence as consent to these rules. "Let's start with something easy. What is your name? Your full name?"

Dean spat at the ground before the angel. "Kiss my ass."

Zachariah shook his head in disappointment. He looked at the young leader. "You failed. I thought you were going to be honest with me, Dean."

This did not have the anticipated result. Dean did frown when he first heard his name, but this was not the shocked reaction Zachariah had been hoping for. Zachariah stared at him. "Aren't you curious about why I know your name?"

"Someone snitched," Dean responded. "I expected this. I don't blame them."

This was the lead-in that Zachariah needed. "But it must bother you to know that even within your little group of rebels, of confidants, you can't find true loyalty. You can't trust anyone."

"Neither can you," Dean retorted. "We're stealing your members. They'd rather we with us than be like you."

"They did not prevent you from being in your predicament," Zachariah said. He would not allow Dean to have any kind of upper hand. "What does this tell you about your angel?"

The tone was condescending. Dean chose not to answer – that was what Zachariah wanted. The silence allowed for Zachariah to lay out the rules of Dean's imprisonment.

"There are only two scenarios," Zachariah said in a menacing voice. "Either you play along and give us the information we need, or you resist and you will make things infinitely harder on yourself."

"I'm not afraid," Dean responded. He shifted from one foot to another.

"You will be when I'm done with you," Zachariah promised. Dean tried to thrust himself forward, to come closer to maybe kick him, but he didn't move much and it did not leave any kind of impression on Zachariah other than 'pathetic'.

"Fight me," Dean snarled. Zachariah grinned.

"With pleasure."

But not yet. One touch was enough to render Dean silent, and only two fingers to his sleep were all it took. However he struggled before, he did not stand a chance against the angel's abilities. With immediate contact, Dean fell asleep. It was the perfect example of why he and his resistance were failing, even if most of the leadership was out there and hopefully not united.

This did not matter now. Dean was asleep. It would stay that way for now, until Zachariah found the perfect way to extract information from Dean. Until he had thought of the right scenarios or words that would entice him.