Ariel waited in the shadows, watching that dingy warehouse in Wyoming. It was funny to say, but Dean Winchester was intriguing her. She had been on this bloody Earth for four millennia, and humans never really intrigued her. They went about their lives, concerned with themselves and their own. Once in awhile, one of them would do for others some good. But, really? Not much made an impact.
Now, Dean Winchester... he was the anomaly in all this. Michael and Raphael gave her that pitiful dossier before she met with him the first time, but demons can be far more chatty. It only took interrogating a few of them to get the answers she wanted. A man raised from boyhood to hunt the monsters, to place himself last all the time. He was the barrier between good and evil, and he and his brother Sam did the best that they could to stem it. Hunting down Azazel like that took bigger balls of steel than Ariel had seen in a long time. Killing one of the Princes of Hell, well damnit. She was impressed.
Michael gave her new orders after that first meeting. She was to assist Castiel and his battalion from a distance in aiding the Winchesters in making sure that the final seal of the Apocalypse was to remain closed. Raphael placed emphasis on 'from a distance'. She was the source of anger and rage for many angels. If she was seen working with one of the battalions with one of their greatest missions, there might be rebellion in the ranks.
Ariel snorted internally at that. What did she care about rebellion? Been there, done that. She was already Fallen in the eyes of every angel. Thanks to her training as a Knight of Hell, she was the worst nightmare of many of her countless siblings. She just didn't care. She did what she needed to in order to survive. It just so happened that by following Michael's orders coincided with the promise that she made Dean.
Ariel had kept tabs on Dean and Sam ever since her meeting. Small fries, little missions. That last mission in Greybull, though. She had watched as Dean and Sam astral-traveled to try and find out why people had stopped dying. Summoning that child's spirit like that? Not the best idea in the world, but it did work. Since she couldn't enter the town because of all of the Enochian wards around its boundaries, she could only watch as Alastair turned up and brought out Death's Scythe.
She hated that infernal demon. Alastair was a student of Asmodeus, and he learned his craft side by side with his mentor torturing Ariel. Alastair was more of a talker than Asmodeus, always talking and talking and talking. There were times when she would have gouged out her own eyeballs and stabbed out her ears to get him to shut up for just an hour or two. It didn't mean that he wasn't good... No, he was just as good as his teacher.
Ariel knew that Alastair was lying when he told the brothers that he had gotten the Scythe from Death itself. Death was still imprisoned whenever their Father had sent him. She would've known if he was freed, because she would probably be dead at that point. When the brothers were finished, the wards broken and Alastair captured by Castiel, Ariel took the forgotten scythe and kept it with her. She figured that its power was a good chip at the poker game that she was playing with her unwitting older brother.
It was funny, to think that she was almost free. Ariel had played by the rules for so long, listening to the endless admonitions. She had endured torture from both sides of the battlefield, and for what? For pleasure? Good grief, she wasn't that masochistic. All she wanted was to be free. If she played her cards right, then she would get there.
For now, Ariel moved closer to the warehouse, slipping through the open door. She stalked closer, listening as Castiel and Uriel told Dean that Heaven needed him to torture Alastair in order to get the information about who was killing the angels, and that it was not a choice.
Ariel shook her head. Naomi was the one to dispense interrogations on behalf of the Council, not random humans. Maybe this was below her sainted stature, but how often did the bloody Grand Inquisitor of Hell end up on your table? Why did she pass up this chance?
Ariel scoffed again. This was another test for Dean to prove himself. God, her brothers loved to test and test. Every chance to test their subordinates was like a little present for them. She should know. But why? What was the endgame? Ariel hated missing pieces of the puzzle, and right now she had more blanks than pieces.
Ariel tuned back into the conversation before her. "I want to talk to Cas, alone." Dean stood up to Uriel. Scoffing, Uriel told Castiel that he would go seek revelation, that there might be some further orders for them. Dean, being Dean, told Uriel to bring back some donuts when he came back. Uriel laughed, telling Castiel, "This one just won't quit, will he? You know, I think I'm starting to like you, boy." With that, he left.
Ariel cocked her head. What she remembered of Uriel was little, but he wasn't so easy to acquiesce, especially to a human's demand. Something wasn't right.
Trying to act cool, Dean turned back to Castiel with one of his smart-aleck comments. "You guys don't walk enough. You're gonna get flabby." Ariel had to hide a laugh in order to remain invisible to Castiel. She did not want to give herself away just yet.
Ariel wanted to chuckle. Castiel had been socially awkward when she knew him at the Citadel, and millennia serving didn't seem to make improvements in that area. He was simply occupying a vessel, a tool for his angelic persona to speak through and not harm the humans around him. Jokes like that would always go over his head.
Dean, unimpressed with Castiel's lack of laughter, told him, "You know, I'm starting to think that Junkless has a better sense of humour than you do."
Castiel, still emotionless, replied with, "Uriel's the funniest angel in the garrison. Ask anyone." Ariel shook her head in the shadows. Castiel really needed to get out of his shell more often. If Uriel was considered the funniest, then who was the most serious?
Dean was shocked by that information, but he tried not to show it. Instead, he just moved his focus around the room and took a breath. Catching on with the situation, Dean walked forward and confronted Castiel. "What's going on, Cas? Since when does Uriel put a leash on you?"
Ariel looked on in consideration. Dean truly considered himself friends with Castiel, from what she could see. He was one of the few humans that she had witnessed to actually care about the angel and not just their occupied form. Maybe it was the connection between them, with Castiel saving Dean from Hell. Maybe it was because Dean refused to be cowed by the angels, and instead met them on head first without always following orders.
Castiel got his emotions back under his control and looked at Dean with the same stone eyes. "My superiors began to question my sympathies." Ariel furrowed her brow. This has Zachariah written all over it. That foolish angel, always interfering to make himself seem more important. Interfering with the leadership of a battalion, though? Someone was pulling Zachariah's strings, and they were all on the Council.
Dean, taken aback, retorted with, "Your sympathies?" Man, Dean really didn't get it. Castiel was never going to change. He was just an angel: one that listened to orders and obeyed. The truth is, that was what an angel was: someone who took orders and followed them without question. Only if you were high enough in the ranks did you get a glimpse into the long term plans of the Council. Castiel was nowhere near their level.
Ariel almost felt sorry for him, but she remembered the looks of disgust on his face when he retrieved her from New York, dropping her at the feet of the masses like a plague-ridden rag. Castiel was small fish, and the feelings of small fish don't get considered in the grand schemes.
"I was getting too close to one of the humans in my charge. You. They feel that I've begun to show emotions, doorways to doubt. This can impair my judgement." Castiel and Dean stared at each other, and Ariel finally understood one of the missing pieces of the puzzle.
It wasn't just that Dean considered Castiel to be a friend. Castiel was reciprocating. She wanted to chortle. The two of them, human and angel, had become friends, and because of that, Castiel was starting to question and feel for the first time in his life. As a result of that, Zachariah adjusted the leadership of Castiel's garrison to let Uriel have a chance. Well... whatever. Ariel owed Castiel nothing and no effort to help fix him. Maybe he could pay a visit to Naomi to get himself fixed, rocking and ready for duty.
Dean just was not having it, abject terror beginning to colour the air around him. He walked away and faced the door where Alistair was being kept behind. "Well, tell Uriel, or whoever... You do not want me doing this, trust me."
Ariel knew that feeling. She was a warrior, designed to fight. Both Heaven and Hell had trained her well. It would be so easy for her to sink back into that mindset, to focus on the next kill. To let herself be swept away in the rage and despair, to become Afriel once again. She had to fight every day during her penance to stay grounded.
"Want it, no. But I've been told we need it." Castiel deserved to be shivved at this point. God, Ariel was tired of this. But she had to wait. She made a promise to Dean, and he needed to say her name before she could help him.
Dean was starting to show the terror in his voice, his words quivering ever so slightly. "You ask me to open that door, and walk through it... you will not like what walks back out." Ariel knew that when he closed his eyes, Dean was reliving his time in Hell: the screams, the flame, the blood, the joy of the torture. She knew that Dean wanted not to relive it in reality because of a goddamn goose chase meant to test him. He didn't have a choice.
"For what it's worth, I would give anything for you not to have to do this." That was the closest that Castiel would get to an apology.
Dean looked to Castiel, almost broken. He began to pace a little more, his hands gesticulating as he thought. He looked to the sky, and finally said it. A voice so quiet that Ariel barely heard it. "Ariel, I need you. I'm calling on your promise."
"And so, I come." Ariel walked out of the shadows, her swords jostling slightly against her hip, and frightened both man and angel. They were both oblivious to her. Unlike some of her brothers, Ariel didn't need to make a fancy entrance with the light bulbs breaking and the wind howling to make her power known. Instead, a simple appearance from the shadows suited her and struck fear in angel, demon, and human. "Dean, what do you want me to do?"
Ariel saw that Dean was confused and getting angry. "You were here the whole time."
"My orders, Dean, are to assist from the shadows. Only if you call my name will I make myself known. So, I waited." Ariel nodded to Castiel, who almost sneered back at her. "So, Dean, what do you want me to do?"
"I need..." Dean turned to look at her. "I can't do this, not again." He sounded frightened, the anger drained from him. "Please, tell me that this is not part of the plan. Please, tell me that I don't have to do this."
Castiel made to speak, but Ariel cut him down with a single glare. "You don't get to speak, soldier. Not after that bullshit you just pulled." Ariel looked back to Dean, peering down into the depths of his flayed soul. "I'm so sorry, Dean, but you need to do this. I told you, though. You're not doing this alone. You go through that door, and so will I. We will work together, and we will get answers." She made her voice quiet, holding onto Dean's shoulder.
Castiel seemed confused by the sudden change in events, but he was a leader to the core. He tried to regain his ground. "Ariel..."
"Castiel." Ariel took on the commanding tone of her voice that her brother had taught her so well. "You have your orders. I have mine." She stood at Dean's shoulder. "Stand vigil, and make sure that we are not interrupted. When we are finished, you can pass along whatever intelligence we can pull."
No more words needed to be said. Ariel walked beside Dean, pushing open the door as he brought the cart of tools past the saddened Castiel and into their own personal slice of Hell.
