Chapter 19

Christmas Miracles

December 24th, 2009

Rowen was about to start his Christmas Eve sermon when the door opened slightly to admit a straggler. His regulars were too busy chatting to take note of the woman who ducked into the empty back pew. She had on a pair of black sunglasses despite it being eight in the evening, and she was wearing a baggy grey sweater dress and tights. She stood out like a sore thumb against his prim and proper congregation, and it made him smile. It was always heartwarming when others joined them, especially during the holidays.

Then she lifted her face and he swore his heart stopped for a moment.

It didn't matter that black sunglasses were blocking bright blue eyes, the shape of her face and the power that suddenly filled the room made it apparent who'd entered his church.

"Father Anderson, are you ready to begin?"

Rowen nodded his head absentmindedly and tried to ignore the archangel sitting at the back of the room.

"Of course."

He walked up to the pulpit and decided he'd continue as if she wasn't there.

"Good Evening, it's my pleasure to see all of you on this holy day. Shall we begin with a prayer?"

Rowen swore his sermon lasted longer than he'd planned. He was mildly surprised to see his visitor standing for hymns, even if she never sang or responded. When the candles were lit at the end of the sermon, she seemed to seek out one of the children who happily took her hand. He saw the barest smile as she squatted down to make it easier, ignoring the slightly off-put look from one of the older women when her dress hiked up slightly. She still hadn't removed her glasses, and as he stood on her other side he could immediately tell why.

The smell of alcohol clung to her like some of his parishioners' perfumes.

Their fingers brushed as they closed the circle, and as the final prayer echoed around the room he could feel her hand shaking. He couldn't immediately speak with her as the circle broke and people began approaching to ask questions or wish him a Merry Christmas.

He watched as the child, Ava if he recalled, tugged the archangel's hand and leaned to whisper something in her ear. Rowen made out the soft laugh and nod as Ava scrambled back to her parents with a happy smile. After that, he lost sight of his angelic visitor for a few moments as people crowded around him. Rowen barely had the chance to tell his wife to start counting the tithings so they could get home to the kids on time.

By the time he was able to get away, the church was empty except for the familiar form sitting in the front pew. He walked up to her and sat down without hesitation.

"I'm glad to see you're well."

His soft statement was met by a snort, and Azrial pulled off her glasses. Her eyes were bloodshot, but it looked more like she'd been crying then from being inebriated.

"We must have very different definitions of well, Father Anderson."

Azrial's voice was soft, and there wasn't a lick of the snark he'd come to associate with the archangel. It was the same tone of voice that she'd used at Bobby's when they'd spoken about an angel's capacity to love.

"Perhaps."

His admission caused a comfortable silence to fall between them, and he waited to see if Azrial said anything. She had to be here for a reason. Somehow he doubted the archangel would randomly show up at his church, especially since it seemed she'd been drinking.

"I thought," Azrial paused, seemingly transfixed by the stained glass that dominated the wall behind the pulpit. "I thought being here may help me."

"Help you with what?"

"Feel closer to Heaven."

Rowen expected many things from the archangel, but this was far from one of them. He must have been silent for too long because Azrial laughed bitterly, her head tilting back to stare at the ceiling.

"In a way, it did. Your soul's purity makes this place holier than it normally would be. If I shut my eyes I can almost pretend..."

Azrial trailed off and Rowen wished he could find something to say. His father prepared him for many things; from confessionals to exorcisms, but talking to an emotional archangel wasn't something he ever fathomed needing to know.

"Can't you go home?"

Rowen posed the same question he would to someone with an estranged family. From what he understood, Azrial didn't actually have an issue with Michael beyond him wanting to fight Lucifer. That didn't mean the eldest angel would turn his sister away though, did it?

"Home? I haven't had a home in a long time."

Azrial's admission seemed to age her. Her eyes seemed darker as she stared up at the rafters clearly lost in thought.

"Why's that?"

Silence greeted his question, and Rowen didn't know if he wanted her to answer. He was treating her like any human that may wander in looking for answers, and he was waiting for it to bite him on the ass.

"The short story is I was ordered not to return to Heaven."

Rowen must have looked shocked because when Azrial turned toward him she laughed. "An archangel barred from Heaven. It sounds painfully familiar doesn't it?"

Rowen felt a bubble of anger in him at the silent comparison. Perhaps it was how dead her eyes were, or maybe all Azrial had done to aid them, but he wasn't going to let that go.

"You're not Lucifer, Azrial. I don't even know the story and I'd stake my life on that."

Azrial remained silent. He was about to make another point but the archangel whispered,

"You don't know that. I could be even worse than my dear brother."

Rowen bit his tongue to stem the retort that he initially wanted to respond with. Azrial didn't seem in the right state of mind for a blunt disagreement.

"If that's the case, why did you save Dean?"

The question caused the archangel to look at him strangely, and she remained quite clearly wanting him to elaborate.

"If you were anything like your brother, Dean Winchester would be dead. If you were anything like Lucifer, he'd have his vessel and we'd all be under his boot right now rather than celebrating."

When Azrial didn't respond Rowen added quietly, "If you were anything like Lucifer, Crowley would be dead, Azrial. You did your part to try and stop him. What more can you expect of yourself?"

The pain in her eyes seemed to multiply at the mention of Crowley, and Rowen wished he hadn't brought the demon up. He should have guessed the bastard was part of the reason the archangel seemed off her game. Demons weren't known to be grateful, after all. Crowley may have saved his life, but that debt would only extend so far and that didn't include excusing stupidity.

"You act like I'm a good," Azrial paused and Rowen swore she was about to say person, "You act like I'm a proper archangel. I'm not. In some ways, I've sinned far worse than Lucifer."

"If that's the case, how is it you've not Fallen?"

Azrial stiffened for a moment, but she shook her head looking back at the stained glass window. It showed Michael, Raphael, and Gabriel. Rowen frowned realizing that it must be a nasty reminder to her. That she'd been forgotten and left behind by not just her family, but also the world.

"My Father's will is all that kept me from joining Lucifer. My sin is one that Heaven would see me killed for, archangel or not."

"If Heaven's will is the same as God's, why do you work so hard to prevent your brothers' fight?"

Azrial froze, and she looked completely taken aback by his question. A feeling of triumph filled him as Azrial fell into contemplative silence. A soft cough drew his attention to his right, but Azrial didn't seem to notice that someone had joined them.

"The tithings are taken care of. Are you ready to go home?"

Susan's voice was gentle as she shifted her dark blonde over her shoulder. She must have taken it down while she'd been closing down the church. Azrial seemed to snap out of her thoughts and looked between the two of them.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to keep you."

The archangel stood up, and with one last glance at the stained window, she turned to walk out.

"Do you have anywhere to go tonight, Azrial?"

Rowen's question had the effect he'd hoped, and Susan's mouth fell into a gentle oh as her dark green eyes settled on the archangel who shrugged.

"Back to Gabriel, I guess. Assuming he's not off with one of his liaisons."

She didn't sound thrilled at the prospect and Susan quickly cut in. "Why don't you come back to the orphanage with us? We'll be having a Christmas Eve dinner, and the more the merrier."

Azrial looked genuinely surprised by the offer, and Rowen wished he could take a picture. Her dark blue eyes moved between them, clearly trying to weigh up the offer.

"I don't think that would be," she paused and shot him a look, "wise."

"Nonsense! Rowen told me how much you helped on that damn hunt. It's the least we can do to repay you."

Azrial blinked and asked softly, "You know what I am, and still want me to join you?"

Susan scoffed and walked forward linking her arm through the surprised archangel's.

"You could be just about anything, and I'd be inviting you to dinner for keeping my daft husband alive. The fact that you're an archangel means very little to me."

Azrial seemed to falter and added half-heartedly, "I've been drinking, do you really think I should be around children?"

"You sound far more sober than some of the people I saw at service tonight. Archangel or not, you're not getting out of this I'm afraid."

Susan began walking toward the exit, and Azrial looked frantically back at him, but Rowen just smirked and gave a careless shrug.

"Best just give in, Azrial. Sue can be rather strong-willed when she wants to be."

Susan scoffed, and Azrial looked back at the woman, clearly at a loss.

"This isn't being strong-willed, Ro. I'm simply returning her kindness."

His wife pulled the confused archangel out the door and toward the car, chatting all the while. Rowen paused at the door to turn off the lights and his gaze fell on the stained glass window illuminated by moonlight. He shook his head, flipping off the switch and heading out to join the women, just in time to hear Azrial tentatively answering one of Susan's questions.

Line Break

Azrial was sure she'd lost her mind.

It's not that she had something against Rowen, on the contrary, the exorcist amused her when he wasn't threatening Crowley's life. That didn't explain why she'd allowed herself to be dragged back to his orphanage for a holiday meal.

Crowley would wring her neck.

That thought left a sour taste in her mouth, and she sipped the wine that Susan had been kind enough to hand her. Her hair was a mess of small braids and fake flowers after several young girls had glomped onto her. Apparently her hair was fun to play with, who knew?

"Ah, that's the last of the kids in bed."

Rowen stumbled back into the kitchen with an easy smile, and Azrial snorted softly. He took a seat across from her, and Azrial set her glass down.

"Thank you, for allowing me to spend the evening here."

"Don't ever thank me, Azrial. After tonight," Rowen ran a hand through his peppered auburn hair and smiled softly at her. "I should be thanking you, after what you did."

Azrial turned away and did her best to ignore the heat rising to her cheeks. "I told you never to bring it up once it was done."

The reprimand was awkward, but she wasn't Michael or Gabriel. She didn't like human praise because she was far from accustomed to it. Rowen let the subject drop and relaxed into his chair.

"Where did your wife run off to?"

"Sue retired for the night. She insists on staying near Conner at least until morning."

Azrial hummed, "That's understandable."

A quiet lull fell between them, and Azrial shut her eyes enjoying the silence for a few more moments. She appreciated Gabriel offering her a place to stay, but her brother was loud. Somehow louder than a whole damn orphanage. She missed the quiet of sitting across from someone with a glass of wine and-

"Damnit."

Azrial huffed the word under her breath, aggravated that her thoughts kept straying back to Crowley. Three years and she'd only thought about the demon during quiet moments where there was a lull in the constant stream of doing, but now he'd turned into an itch that wouldn't go away.

Note to self, never sleep with snarky demons. Side effects include the annoying urge to forgive outright dickishness.

"Azrial?"

Rowen's tone snapped Azrial out of her morbid thoughts, and she shook her head.

"I'm sorry, seems I zoned out a bit."

"It's no trouble. If you don't mind me asking, what was all that talk about me being a Saint?"

Azrial blinked slowly and realized that was a pretty fair question all things considered.

"Well, when you die you'll become a Saint."

The blunt statement made Rowen stare blankly back at her, and Azrial raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"You're not used to kids, are you? I thought the 'why' was implied in my question."

Azrial's lips twitched at the mild sarcasm and she ran a finger along the stem of her wine glass.

"Saints have been known to the archangels since the beginning of time. Each of us was accountable for a set number of them. Simply put, it just means you'll be rather special when you die."

Azrial paused, enjoying the mystified look that overcame the man. She chuckled and added as an afterthought, "There are many Saints not even known to the Vatican because their criteria about what makes a Saint isn't really complete. They do catch a decent few, though."

Rowen took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair as he leaned heavily against the table.

"That's insane."

"Don't ask about prophets then. They're an even messier basket of eggs."

Rowen stared at her for several moments, and Azrial had a sneaking suspicion he was trying to tell if she was serious. He sighed and then looked her straight in the eye.

"Who's," he paused and snorted, "accountable for me?"

Azrial didn't look away, but she couldn't help but bite her tongue. She'd told him too much, and now he could likely guess if she refused to answer.

"You can't guess?"

She joked softly, and Rowen looked thoughtful.

"I'm inclined to say, Gabriel. He was rather concerned about my health. Though Castiel also said Michael was interested in me."

Azrial chuckled and tilted her head. "You don't think it's Raphael?"

Rowen's brow creased and he stared her down for several moments. "Simply because you asked, I'm going to say no."

"He's not. All of Raphael's Saints are already in Heaven. Same with Michael. We won't even mention the shit show of what happened when Lucifer walked out and left us with unprotected Saints."

Rowen hummed and then froze. Azrial watched as his eyes glazed over in thought, and she sipped her wine and braced herself for the realization.

"I'm an idiot."

The statement made Azrial snort, "I wouldn't say-"

Rowen cut off her quip and stared at her. "It's you. You called Crowley off when he was about to kill me. You only had to protect Bobby."

"I also said he could kill you later."

She didn't think the diversion would work, and the dry look she got in response made it clear it didn't.

"You work for Death, for all I know Crowley is meant to kill me."

Azrial sighed and finished the glass of wine. "Yes. I'm the archangel in charge of you. Sorry, you drew the short straw."

And he had. Rowen was her last Saint, the rest in the coming years would belong solely to Gabriel who'd had none thus far. Apparently, their Father had planned for Gabriel flying the coop, but she wondered why He thought Gabriel would come back. Well, no accounting for blind optimism.

"I don't think I did."

The soft admission had Azrial staring at the human across from her. The sincerity in those five tiny words were touching, and Azrial stood up.

"I should get back to my brother."

Rowen looked at her for several moments before sighing, "Of course. It was," he paused and Rowen finally stood up. "it was nice. Seeing that angels aren't all, what did Dean call them? Dicks with wings."

Azrial laughed at that and looked at the wilting flowers in the center of the table. She touched the leaves, bringing the flowers back to full bloom. She also placed a new flower in the center as a silent peace offering for allowing her to stay. Rowen looked strangely at the vase but then froze seeing the delicate white flower amongst his wife's roses.

"Azrial-"

"Stay safe, Father Anderson."

Azrial ignored the almost choked way the man had uttered her name as she left his house in a flutter of wings. One day, he would die and the inquisitive man could ask her anything he wanted. Tonight though, she'd talked enough about the past.

Line Break

December 25, 2009

Sam ducked into the kitchen as his brother called to grab him another beer. He snorted as the sounds of A Christmas Story trickled in from the living room. Dean insisted that the next movie they were watching was It's a Wonderful Life purely so Castiel would understand more angel related references. It was peaceful, and Sam loved it. Loved being with his brother, Bobby, Castiel, Jo, and Ellen for something other than a world-ending hunt.

Yet there was a feeling of guilt that kept clawing at the back of his mind.

Sam sighed and shut the fridge door after he pulled out two more beers. He set them down on the kitchen table and popped the tops off. There was the gentle sound of wings, far too many to be Castiel, and Sam spun to see Gabriel there with his hands raised. The sound of the TV became more muted, and Sam watched the archangel warily.

"What are you doing here?"

Sam hissed the question, but it lacked any real heat. It was a hard pill to swallow, but they owed Gabriel their lives. That earned a little respect even if the former Trickster drove him batty. Gabriel moved forward, his hands still in clear view.

"Wanted to bring a little Christmas cheer, but also didn't want to interrupt all of you."

Sam raised an eyebrow at Gabriel's soft voice. He appreciated the archangel not barging in, but he didn't know if this was any better. Gabriel seemed to take Sam's silence as a cue to keep going.

"Azrial's awake."

Sam zeroed in on Gabriel at that announcement. The archangel's lips twitched slightly and he added, "If you keep looking at me like that, Samsquatch, I might just have to kiss ya."

Sam glared at the teasing tone but the archangel looked unrepentant. Instead of arguing Sam steamed forward.

"She's okay then?"

Gabriel nodded and Sam let out a relieved sigh. Castiel would be thrilled to hear that.

"Will she be coming to see us? I mean, will Crowley even let her?"

Gabriel looked at him strangely until the archangel seemed to have a lightbulb moment.

"Eh, sorry to say but Azrial isn't with Crowley. She's been chilling with me for the past two days. This is just the first I've been alone to come tell ya."

Sam didn't know what to say. He had a ton of questions at Gabriel's blasé announcement that Crowley and Azrial weren't around each other. That seemed wrong after the way Crowley had acted. Sam opened his mouth, but Gabriel held up a hand.

"Don't ask kiddo. I don't have the answers, because I didn't ask her. It's likely nothing and they'll be fine in a few months."

"But the apocalypse-"

Gabriel laughed and gave Sam a strangely warm smile that looked oddly out of place given the archangel's past behavior.

"Azrial will keep her word. Can't speak for Crowley, but everything will be fine. The world's still spinning today, so go enjoy some family time."

Gabriel's suggestion had a slightly commanding edge. Sam could almost pick up on a tinge of jealousy.

"Thanks." Gabriel cocked his head in confusion and Sam added. "For telling me. I'll let Cas know."

The archangel hummed and turned to look into the living room with a strange expression. Sam couldn't place it, but then it passed and Gabriel turned away with a shrug.

"Don't mention it, Sam-squatch. Have a good Christmas."

The archangel was gone and the sound of the TV from the living room increased once more.

"Oi, Sammy! Where's that beer?"

Sam shook his head and grabbed the beer, surprised they were still cold.

"Coming, jerk!"

Sam walked back in the living room, collapsing onto the floor on Castiel's right side. The angel had found himself between him and Dean more often than not these days, and it amused Sam to no end. His brother had the strangest ways of showing affection.

"Here's you beer, now shush this is the best part."

Dean huffed but Sam just smiled relaxing as they all watched the movie.

Hey, Gabe, Sam doubted the archangel was one for prayers but he wouldn't let the snarky Trickster get the last word, Merry Christmas.