Ariel sat straight-backed in the chair, gripping the arms with white knuckles. She felt the skin of her vessel starting to burn in the presence of the archangels, fighting against her. Closing her eyes for a moment, she remembered her time on the Table. She had made it through that, she would make it through this.
"Now, Ariel." Michael and Raphael looked far more comfortable in their chairs. "Recite your sentence for us, if you please."
Sadistic bastards, her brothers. Ariel bite back the glare and growl, trying to be civil. She looked ahead at the table, not looking either of her brothers in the eyes. "For the slaughter of four hundred angels of the Host during the years after Paradise, I was to serve four thousand years penance on Earth. My powers monitored, my sword stripped." She rubbed her back against the hard wood of the chair. "My vessel marked to warn off those mortals that saw and knew."
Raphael nodded. "We have noted that you used your powers fifty-seven times during that time, always in the service of mortals. This latest use was to save a child." Tenting his hands before his mouth, Raphael tried to catch her solemn eye. "Why?"
"Our Father commanded that we bow to the mortals, that we serve to save them within the directives of our orders. I was simply trying to fulfil those orders: protect and watch the mortals." Ariel kept her sentences short, trying not to be terse. God, the collar hurt so much!
Michael looked right at her. "If we were to return you to the fold, would you serve us as you did Father before the Fall?"
Ariel wanted to beat her head against the chair. Sanctimonious bastard. She had no choice, for now. Not while she remained bound like this. "I would serve Michael and Raphael as I served Father before the Fall." She fought not to clench her teeth at the acrid taste in her mouth. She just had to make it through the questioning.
For the first in a long time, Ariel thanked her Father for a simple gift. Angels, from archangels to the lowest cherubim, could only sense the thoughts of mortals. The minds of their siblings were private, sacrosanct. If either her brothers could hear her mental roar, she would probably end up right back on the table.
Silence filled the room. Ariel let out a quiet groan as the shackles tightened on her wrists with her movements. She just wanted a moment of peace, to heal herself. That was out of the question until these damned pieces of leather were removed.
Michael looked at Raphael, nodding his head to let his brother speak. "There would be changes, Ariel. You lost your place among the Rit Zhen when you Fell, despite keeping your powers to heal. With tensions between Ephraim and yourself as they are, you would no longer serve as a healer. You also will lose your place on this Council. It would not do to be seen rewarding a traitor with the full return of privileges. However, we recognize and acknowledge your skills. You would serve Michael and myself, serving as an emissary of the Council to Earth. You would retain your status as warrior. You will serve no others: not Zachariah, not Ephraim. Only the two of us.
"You would also need to remove the bindings. They are unnecessary now." Michael was finally quiet, trying to catch her eye. "Ariel, look at me."
Ariel was fighting back tears as she looked to her brother, silver salty trails down her cheeks betraying her. She knew that changes were inevitable with her return, but Michael was essentially stripping her of what remained of her old life. She was nothing now, just like Father told her before her Fall. She was... nothing.
The wood creaked as Michael stood up. He knelt before her, gripping her chin in his strong fingers. "This is a mercy, Ariel. Just like when we rescued you, brought you back into the fold. This is mercy. We could have killed you, but we gave you penance. We gave you instruction, we re-educated you. We gave you back purpose. Now, you will serve again."
It was in that moment that Michael and Raphael witnessed her finally gave up. They had watched Ariel fight for so long with hatred, rage, and self-loathing. The witnessing of her sadness and rage had threatened to flood them so many times during her penance. Raphael had stopped Michael more than once from flying to the earth and killing her to stop the anguish that they felt through her. Naomi had told them during her re-education that Ariel accepted that she had failed when she Fell, that she was unworthy of such mercy. And yet, they were offering it still. She leaned forward in the chair, resting her hands on her legs as she tried not to cry, placing more weight into Michael's hand.
"I will serve, Michael."
Michael moved his other hand to the nape of her neck, releasing the collar. Her Grace trickled back into her grasp, more and more as each of the bindings were removed. For the General of the Host to kneel before her, Ariel felt very humiliated in this moment. When the last of the leather fell away, it was as if she had been released from a straitjacket: her arms fell to her side as the flood of light within her filled her once more. Her shadow friend in the back of her mind came back, waiting in the background. Always there, always a reminder.
Ariel slid from the chair, and stood painlessly for the first time by herself. She looked to her commanders. "What are my orders, Generals?" She had to make that distinction in her mind. These were not her brothers, they were the commanders of the Host. She was now a warrior under their aegis.
"You will be our new emissary to the man known as Dean Winchester. He has an important role to play in the coming war, but he is proving reluctant to embrace his purpose. He will need to find reserves of strength in order to prevent the coming Apocalypse. You will have one week of respite, where you will train with the Seraphim. Castiel will lead you to him once the week is over, in order for you to have discussion with him." Raphael passed over a dossier from the table. "Here is his file."
"And these." Michael twisted his hand towards the wall, materializing something from the ether. Ariel's heart mended at the sight of her old friends. "These belongs to you. It is time that you were reunited with your blades."
Ariel gathered the longsword and shortsword and held them close. It was ironic, in a way: the angel meant to be the head of the healers, the Rit Zhen, had been trained to wield two swords. Neither of which helped her when she... Fell.
Ariel forced herself not to think about the whitewashed version her brothers told her. It was propaganda for the troops, that a Fallen Angel could be redeemed. In a sense, she was. But... she was so much more. For now, it served her to stay silent.
"Dismissed, Ariel. Report to Seraphiel's garrison for training." They turned away and back toward the table.
They didn't see Ariel as she walked away. They didn't see the shadow come over her, the evil grin cross her face for a moment. She was back.
"Dean." That voice, that stupid voice, woke him up from the best sleep that he had had in a long time. Dean sleepily turned to look at the clock: it read 5:18 in the morning. What kind of a person would wake another up at this hour? Then again, Castiel was not a person, per say.
"Come on, man. Come back later, all right?" Dean flipped back into bed, only to have the covers yanked off him. "Jesus! Dammit, assholes! It's freezing in here!" Dean, angry that his sleep had probably now been permanently stopped, turned on his back to see both Castiel and Uriel standing at the foot of his bed, Uriel holding the sheets.
"Dean. Come with us." Castiel, wearing that ridiculous holy tax accountant suit, was still. Uriel was trying not to laugh at the sight of Dean shivering in the February early morning.
"What? Why?" Dean curled out of bed and pulled on a shirt. He went to wake up Sammy, but Castiel stayed his hand. "No, Dean. Sam stays here. It's just you that we need."
"All right." Shrugging into his favourite jacket, he followed the angels out of the dinky motel room, across the street, and up the stairs to the local library. The door was locked, of course. Dean went to reach for his lock-pick set, but Uriel stopped him.
"Mud-monkey, stop being so anxious." He waved a hand over the nod and let the door open on its own. "Follow us."
"Uriel!" A voice came from behind his little group, a female voice. Letting the hormones inside of him run wild, he turned around and expected to see another stiff angel chick. He got something much different.
A lone woman stood on a street that was empty moments ago. She was wearing jeans, a black shirt, and a leather jacket: nothing special against her pale skin. Black hair was tied back in a braid. Ice blue eyes stared out at them all. It was the two swords belted to her waist that caught his attention. Fingerless gloves on her hands, and shit-kickers on her feet. There was a bit of a smile on her face as she began to walk toward him.
"Hello, Dean." She shook his hand. That alone made Dean's mind twist. Why was she acting so normal? "I see you've already been acquainted with Castiel and Uriel. My name is Ariel. I've been sent by Michael to meet with you."
"Michael? As in angel Michael? As in guy who stuffed Lucifer in a hole the last time 'round?" The woman nodded her head, the smile on her face dimmed a little by something... hurt? "All right. I'll bite. What are you doing here?"
"We need to talk."
