I'm having some trouble fitting the time pace, since I'm not following anymore the canonical calendar. Please, let me know if you catch any incoherency.


Chapter 16

After the Winchesters' and Jack's departure, things were pretty quiet in the bunker for a few days. Jessica and Castiel kept company to each other, rummaging through the tons of strange items and archives that had been catalogued, but sometimes not even the descriptions were all that helpful.

"Item #63016-SAR," Jessica read the label, holding some kind of wood object that looked like a horse brush, but the sandpaper part was made of rough metal. "What do you think this is?"

"If I am not mistaken, that is a sarotegil," the angel answered, barely looking away from his own strange item, a kris with Turkish carvings. "It is used to scrap a dragon's skin and peel off the loose scales."

"That doesn't sound very pleasant," the woman grimaced, putting it back on the shelf. "How much it's still left to check on?"

"We have been going at a quick pace these days. I reckon we already inspected about 72% of the total."

"I'm sorry to be delaying you," Jessica said. "I know that you'll probably be much faster without me, but still you wait for me to participate. You already did half of the work on your own during the nights."

"Do not see it that way, Jess." The angel smiled gently at her. "It is lonely here without Dean... and without Sam and Jack too, of course, even if I can communicate with him via angel radio. I greatly appreciate having you here with me. You make this task not as tedious as it could have been otherwise."

Jessica smiled back, feeling a little reassured, before turning around the shelf to keep looking.

"Thanks, Cas. I'm glad to be of help, no matter how little. It hasn't been easy since I came back."

"Is anything the matter?"

The worried tone in the angel's voice made Jessica consider if perhaps she had spoken too much without noticing. Biting her lip, she reminded herself that he was her friend, and thus she could trust him.

"I... I feel so stupid and weak confessing this, after everything I know that Sam and Dean, and you too, have gone through. But the truth is," she breathed deeply, "when I was lost in the other world, I wished so many times that it had never happened. A couple of times I even wished... God, Cas. I wished that I had been left dead."

"Jess," Castiel called her gently, turning around the shelf too.

"I feel so pathetic right now," she started to sob. "Since the beginning, I told myself that everything would be alright; that as long as I loved Sam and he loved me, that was all I needed and we could make it work again. But look at me now! I've barely escaped from my first big adventure and I'm already a mess."

The seraph didn't know what to say, so he merely (and a bit awkwardly) offered his open arms to the plaintive human. Jessica kindly accepted the consolation gesture and hugged him.

"I do not think that makes you pathetic in the slightest, Jess," Castiel comforted her, tenderly patting her back like she was a little child. "This kind of life is harsh and full of sorrow, as I told you once. There are many things to be scared of, and you must believe me when I tell you that you are not the only one afraid. Me, Dean and Sam fear them too. Still we go off to save the world, because we think it deserves to be saved, but it does not make us fear any less."

"I know that you're pretty much anonymous heroes," Jessica nodded, mumbling against Castiel's shoulder. "But I'm not sure that I'm cut to be one too. And even if I was, I certainly don't want to. I... I want to have a life of my own, Cas, a life beyond all this. And that makes me feel horrible."

"Jess, that is a misguided way of thinking. There is nothing wrong with wanting a normal life. I cannot speak for myself, being an angel, but both Sam and Dean had desired to get the 'apple pie' style of life at some point or another. Sam wanted it so much that he left his family to go to college, where he met you; Dean forced himself into it after the Apocalypse was averted because he had promised it to his brother, but I know how much it broke his heart when he had to leave it behind. Jess, you are not a horrible person, and should not think about yourself like that."

Jessica sniffled for a while longer, but eventually calmed down and Castiel released her from his arms.

"Thank you, Cas. I feel better now."

"You are welcome. But have you expressed your sentiments about this matter to Sam? Surely, he will be more of help than me."

"More or less," she hesitated. "I've told him how scared I was in the other world, but I didn't want to insist that much when I was already feeling like a weakling. And before Jack was born, we talked about me going back to a college somewhere and finishing my major."

"That is a very good plan. What is stopping you to accomplish it?"

"Uh... being officially dead, for starters?"

"Naught but a petty thing for the Winchesters," Castiel smiled, confident. "Maybe someone mixed a few documents and Jessica Moore did not actually died, but recovered from her injuries in a hospital. Maybe the unfortunate victim of that fire was another, because you were not there when it happened. Or maybe, since the fire destroyed everything, there were not even a victim's remains to be accounted for."

The female gaped, eyes wide open, understanding what the angel was getting at.

"That actually could very well happened," she admitted, hopeful. "Humans make mistakes all the time, after all. If said mistakes could be corrected..."

"Then Jessica Moore never really died. Sorry for the parents and friends that mistakenly mourned her while she was away recovering, but she is ready now to get back on track with her life."

At the mention of her parents, Jessica almost broke down crying again. Her mum, her dad... she missed them so much. Until now she hadn't dared to hope that one day she could reunite with them again, but Castiel made it sound so easy... However, what would she tell them? What excuse to make for more than a decade of absence, a decade of silence and no contact? And what about Sam?

"I don't want to leave Sam," she whispered, sadly.

"Jess, it does not have to be one thing or the other. I will not mislead you into thinking that it would be simple, but it is certainly achievable if you really want it. You can stay beside Sam and share your life with him, in the same way he shares his with you. You can be part of each other's life."

"I'd like that," she chuckled. "It'd be nice to once more read a history book that's not about one supernatural thing or another. Wonderful as this library is, the Men of Letters were quite monothematic in that department."

Castiel nodded, satisfied to have been able to rise up his friend's spirit (not literally), and they got back to work.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Dean was livid. Sam's eyebrows were about to disappear in his hairline, astonished. Castiel squinted, mildly confused. Jess looked genuinely impressed. And Jack merely kept looking at the TV in the recreational room, not really understanding that something very important was happening. What was the big deal with the angel Balthazar being in the news?

"Mister Sebastian Roché, the eccentric French millionaire, has practically risen from the dead after being missing for almost eight years. In words of Mr. Roché, he has lived this time isolated from the world in a spiritual retirement in Tibet, which he finally feels ready to leave. Press all around the world is trying to get an interview with the elusive gentleman, but until now no further declarat-..."

The journalist's voice was lost as the screen turned black.

"Fuck the what?" Dean yelled, throwing the remote to the recliner. "The hell is Thaz doing? Doesn't he know what discretion means? Cas!"

"What?"

"Don't you have anything to say?"

"What do you expect me to say?" the angel frowned. "I have no control over what Balthazar does or does not."

"Well, he's your friend. Tell him to get back in line!"

"Dean, he is not my soldier to command anymore, for which I am grateful, considering how bad that has always resulted. He promised to help us, but he also warned us about his intention of getting back his vessel's life, now that there won't be any angels after his head for becoming a rebel. I guess this is him doing exactly that."

The older hunter snorted, pissed off and wanting to kick something. They were dealing with big issues here, and that damn rogue was just leisurely strolling around in front of the cams for the world to see.

"Hey, don't take this too far," Sam spoke. "Maybe this is his way of opening a path? Parading as a human, and with money no less, he can travel around the world and talk to people. He can get clues about the vaults we're looking for."

"Oh, please," Dean retorted, angry. "He's a freaking angel! He doesn't need money to travel, he flies. He doesn't need to talk to people for clues, when with just a touch he can get whatever info he wants from their brains. No, Sammy. He's doing this just for the fun of it!"

"Yes, Balthazar has always been... inclined to the hedonistic side of human nature," Castiel agreed.

"Call him," Dean demanded. "Call him back right now, because I'm gonna kick his ass if you're not up to it."

"I cannot call him without using my true voice, Dean, which you already know not to be a pleasant experience for human ears. If you really want to talk to him that much, either we summon him or you call him."

For some reason, that instantly deflated the hunter quite a bit. He even looked taken aback.

"No way. I'm not calling him."

"Why not?"

"Because... Just because, Cas!"

"AHEM!" Sam half coughed, half snickered. "In case you've forgotten, guys, there are more people in the room. Since very obviously Dean doesn't want to pray to another angel, I'll do it."

Dean grumbled at the way that Sam had said it, which only caused Jess and Jack to join in the chuckles. He looked at them furiously, not at all amused. C'mon, the kid probably didn't even understand what was the joke!

"Now I'm praying to the angel Balthazar, hoping against hope that wherever he is, he's sober and fully clothed. This is Sam Winchester, from the MoL bunker. Balthazar, we would like to talk to you about your recent activities in the media. So please, if you could spare us a moment of your valuable time..."

They all waited for a minute, expectantly, but nothing happened.

"Oh, right. No angel ever gives a damn when I'm the one calling for them. How could I forg-?"

Before the younger Winchester could finish his complaint, the whole bunker started to rattle. Lightly at first, but the tremor grew second after second until becoming a full-on quake.

"Wishful thinking, but maybe it's just Thaz's idea of a great entrance?"

"No, I do not detect Balthazar's presence in the vicinity."

"If this is really an earthquake, we should get closer to the exit just in case," Sam said, putting his arm around Jessica's shoulders and urging her to move. "We don't really know how much the bunker can actually resist."

Everyone seemed to agree, so they made their way through the hallways to the war room. But before they could continue to the library, where some books had already fallen to the floor, an intense light flooded through the windows from outside. It was so pure and blinding that even Castiel had to narrow his eyes a bit in order to see what was happening, while the others covered their faces.

And then everything went still again, like nothing had changed. But something had actually changed: there, in the middle of the war room, floating softly over the table, were two bright spiralling bluish bubbles.

"What the hell?" As usual, Dean was the first to recover from the initial shock. "Cas, are those...?"

"They are souls, yes." The angel sounded as much perplexed as the hunter. "And if I am not mistaken, one of them..."

"Please, guys, where are your manners?" another voice announced its presence. "First you call me back, and then you close the door on my face? What a way to make me feel unappreciated. Yet here I am, sober and clothed like you asked. Your loss, though."

The five of them turned their heads towards Balthazar, who after all had decided to grace them with his presence.

"Balthazar," Castiel spoke. "We did not close our door. Rather, said figurative door was being used by another guest. Two very sudden and unexpected guests, as you can see."

The silver-eyed angel dropped his smile, taking on a more serious visage when he saw the two floating orbs.

"Not in me to criticize anyone's taste in decoration, but this might be a little excessive for a minimalist lamp, don't you think? Where did you even get them?"

"We didn't get them," Sam explained. "They have appeared right before you."

"Is that how a soul looks? Really?" Jess asked, marvelled. "It's... beautiful, but also impersonal. It doesn't look like anyone."

"That's because you can't see its intended shape," Jack commented.

"That is true," Castiel confirmed, getting closer to the souls. "I do not recognize the other, but this one... sigh. Brace yourselves. You are in for a big surprise."

The seraph cupped his hands and took one of the souls. Then he whispered a litany in Enochian, and soon enough the bluish orb started to take a more defined, less bright shape. When the spiralling light ceased, it was like another person had joined them in the bunker once again. However, it was about who specifically this soul belonged to what made all of the humans breathe deeply.

"Donatello?" Sam said, unsure. "Is that really you?"

"Sam Winchester?" the professor spoke, bewildered. "Dean? Is God with you?"

The strange question, exactly the same one that the prophet had asked them when he met Jack, made the brothers realize that very probably some explanations needed to be given.

"No, God is not here. There's... there's my brother and me, and this is my fiancée Jessica, who was resurrected by God, actually. And you already know Castiel. The other one is another angel, Balthazar, also recently revived, and..."

"I'm Jack," the boy smiled politely, offering his hand. "But we already met."

"We... we did?" Donatello stuttered, trying to accept the handshake, but his incorporeal hand went right through the nephilim's. "Oh... sorry. I don't understand what's happening, but I feel a bit out of myself."

"You don't say," Dean mumbled, earning a bitchface from his brother.

"Well, it's always a pleasure to make new acquaintances, no matter the circumstances."

"Donatello, why are you here?" Castiel asked, wanting to solve the mystery. "How are you here?"

"What's the last thing you remember?" Sam joined.

"I remember being at home. Then this elegant but very scary lady in a black dress appeared out of nowhere, grabbed me, and... then nothing. Next thing is seeing you again."

"Sir, please sit down," Jessica offered him a chair, though she didn't know if a soul could actually sit. "There are some important things you need to know."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Donatello Redfield, chemistry professor and emergency Prophet of the Lord, looked at himself in a bed of a hospital. There were several machines connected to his body, keeping him alive, but only superficially. The core, the essence of a human being was the soul, and that had been detached for far too long.

He had taken the blow pretty well, in everyone's opinion. He hadn't yelled, hadn't cried (not that a soul could actually cry), hadn't demanded compensation... Same as many of the other things that had happened to him during his life, Donatello assimilated them with a noble acceptance. After all, he had led a good life, and that was already more than many people could say.

"I am deeply sorry for this," Castiel apologized one more time. "You did not deserve it, but there was no other way to save you from the corruption of the Demon Tablet."

"I understand," the old man sighed sadly. "This isn't how I expected my life to end, but... well, what can we do. This way or another, I guess it's not that much of a difference."

"You helped us a great deal, Donatello," Sam thanked him. "Several times. We considered you a friend."

The professor smiled, a bit touched by his sincerity.

"I'm glad to have met you, boys. Never think otherwise. I enjoyed my life, even if sometimes it felt a bit lonely. And still, not being alone here in my deathbed, having friends worrying for me... It's a great joy to my old heart. Perhaps that's why God rescued me, to make me realize it and be able to say my farewell."

"What?" Dean frowned. "Chuck rescued you? Are you sure?"

"Yes, absolutely. My mind was a bit hazy in the bunker, but after seeing myself here it became clear. I don't remember my time as a snack, but I remember since the moment the Darkness gave me back to God. He sent me back with some words for you."

Both Winchesters and the angel looked at him expectantly, wanting to hear those words.

"First, Sam, he heard your prayer. He wants you to know, to understand, that even if he doesn't intervene, it doesn't mean that he doesn't care anymore. He actually cares a lot. Whatever you prayed to him, his answer is 'Sometimes you need to tempt fate'. Second, that he knows everything that's happening, of course. But he's busy with some kind of big project that I'm not privy to, and that's why he won't interfere this time either. God really puts all his trust in you."

"Yeah, sure. We're his golden boys," Dean snarled. "To me that sounds like a bunch of excuses, as usual."

"Dean," Donatello spoke in a rather fatherly tone. "As a former atheist, I consider myself impartial enough to judge on facts and character, and let me tell you that you're not being fair. You accuse God of doing nothing after he created everything, because he wanted his creations to follow their own path. As there's pain, there's also happiness; hand in hand with freedom goes responsibility. If you don't thank God for the good things, then you can't blame him for the bad ones."

The hunter didn't know how to reply to that, so he kept silent.

"And third and last, Castiel, this is a message for your son. God wasn't pleased with what Lucifer did, but he doesn't regret allowing Jack to live, even if he's a nephilim. He's proud of both of you. And like I said, God is busy with something, but tell Jack that a day will come when they finally meet."

The angel nodded, smiling in gratitude for the message. He already knew that Jack was a good child, but receiving Father's blessing made him feel all the more proud.

"Now I wonder how my own story ends," Donatello inquired, dubious. "What am I supposed to do?"

A good question, that was.

"I believe you rightfully earned your peace, Donatello," Castiel attempted to say in the most delicate way possible. "If you want, you could ascend to Heaven and reach your final destination."

"That sounds very nice."

"In your current soul state, I can put you back into your body and stop these machines. This way you will be able to actually die. A reaper will come to retrieve you and guide you to your piece of Heaven, if you agree."

"Are you sure this is what you want, Donnie? There'll be no coming back."

"What else is left for me to do? Yes, I feel like I'm ready to go. Please, Castiel."

Castiel nodded, and chanting another Enochian litany, Donatello's shape began to blur until returning to its original spiralling bubble form. The angel took it in his hands and carefully inserted it inside the unresponsive body of the prophet. At a sign of his head, the brothers proceeded to turn off the machines and unplug them. The room became quiet, no more beeping noises.

"The reaper is here," Castiel said not even a minute after. "Donatello is waving his hand in goodbye at you."

"Wish you the best upstairs, man. You nailed it," Dean said to the apparent empty room.

"See you again someday, Donatello," Sam added.

An almost imperceptible shift in the atmosphere was all the sign they got. It had already ended.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Unbeknownst to the people he left behind, the Prophet of the Lord actually had a fourth message to deliver. This last one, however, wasn't addressed to a human but to an angel. Not even to a one in particular, just whoever angel was holding the reins up in Heaven at the moment of his arrival. And just as the course of history had been, that was Naomi.

"This is a highly uncommon procedure," she greeted him, ticked off but still diplomatically polite. "However, considering the current circumstances and the origin of your message, I didn't deem advisable to deny you the meeting you requested."

"Very much obliged, madam." Donatello sat down on the seat she offered him. "I assure you that I have no intentions of becoming a nuisance. The moment I say what was asked of me to say, it's very likely that I won't bother you ever again."

"It relieves me to hear that. As you have maybe noticed, Heaven is not at its best right now."

"Yes, I've seen it. A pity, truth be told. Hopefully, the message I bring will help make it better, because some essential changes need to be done. And even if only a dozen of angels remain nowadays, they too need to be prepared in order to adapt."

"What about the other soul that reappeared with you, mister Redfield?" Naomi inquired, curious. "Should we expect to receive her soon too?"

"Was it a she? I confess I didn't know. That other soul and I were not acquainted."

"I see. Let's get straight to the point, then. Please, you may commence."

Naomi interlaced her fingers and leaned back in her chair, listening attentively to the prophet. This was going to be a long meeting.


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