Warnings and Disclaimers were quite clear back at the the first page of this.
This chapter shows the first solid departure from the, er, "Gospel Canon". Also, don't know why, but Anael insisted that this chapter be written in a different tense. I usually use a past tense, but she very much wanted the reflective immediacy of present tense. *shrugs* Gingers, eh? ;p
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Anael (Haniel, Hamiel, Onoel, Ariel, etc) - one of the 7 angels of Creation, chief of Principalities, prince of archangels, and ruler of the Friday angels. Anael exercises dominion over the planet Venus, is one of the luminaries concerned with human sexuality. . . in Longfellow's The Golden Legend, Anael is one of the angels of the 7 planets, specifically the angel of the Star of Love (i.e., the Evening Star or Venus). In the Book of Tobit, Anael is the name of Tobit's brother.
Haniel (Aniel, Hamiel, Onoel, Hanael- "Glory or Grace of God" or "He who sees God") - angel of the month of December, chief of the order of principalities, virtues (tarshishim), and innocents, according to Barrett, The Magus. . . .He figures in the list of 7 (or 10) archangels and the 10 Holy Sephiroth. Variants of the name occur [including]. . .Anael . . .Haniel has been compared to the Chaldean Ishtar (who ruled Venus) and is invoked as an amulet against evil.
Netzach ("victory, firmness")- the 7th of the 10 Holy Sephiroth (emanations of God). The personalized angel of Netzach is Haniel (Anael) of the order of Elohim.
- from Gustav Davidson's A Dictionary of Angels; Including the Fallen Angels
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The pain of memory rushing back in is unbearable, as though every moment remembered happened anew, all at once. For a brief moment, in threatens to tear apart her fragile, human brain, but the moment passes, and she is panting on the cot in the panic room, the blind psychic at her side.
Quickly, she sorts through the new data, immediately disturbed she finds that it is incomplete. Perhaps, she thinks, when I get my Grace back, that will fix this fault. She remembers Before, and she remembers why she left- her brothers and sisters acting strange, saying disturbing, UnTrue things. The odd behavior spreading like some sort of thought-plague, and knowing that she cannot let it catch her. So she runs and, like the Morning Star, throws herself down upon the Earth. She tears out her Grace, hoping for safety in anonymity. No angel more safe than angel that can't remember what she is. At least, that's what . . . someone. . . always said.
That safety is gone, now, so she must find her Grace. A knowing angel without Grace was a walking target. She'd have to find another way. But first things first. She is fortunate to already have the acquaintance of the two humans best qualified to assist her.
She is slightly embarrassed to need Pamela's assistance out of the panic room, but her human body is still re-gathering its strength. She tells the two young men the truth about herself, and is oddly warmed by how quickly they accept the fact, Sam immediately getting to work to find the most likely locations for her lost Grace. Poor Sam- she understands now why some of her family don't like him, but they are not without blame in his situation. He's stumbling about as best he can, despite the all the lies that everyone has been telling him. She looks closer, and smiles- Gabriel will be a very lucky angel, if he can ever get his crap together.
As expected, Sam hones in on the location in a matter of minutes, and they pile into The Impala- for some reason, the vehicle is capitalized in her mind, as though it were the Platonic ideal of all Impalas. The drive from Sioux Falls to Union, Kentucky reminds her of her human childhood, of cross-country road trips with her parents, visiting what seemed like every small church along the way. Those had been happy times of seeing the world, singing hymns with her parents as they chased the horizon.
This drive winds through Davenport and Peoria and their endless post-harvest fields, then around Indianapolis, passing dairy farms selling fresh cheese, down to just past Cincinnati into Kentucky, where they turn off onto Mt. Zion Road, and park in the lot for St. Elizabeth's Physicians Center. It is not hymns sung this time- but with a twist of amusement, she sings along with Dean when AC/DC starts playing "Highway to Hell." Which is then balanced by "Stairway to Heaven." Human humor is dark, sometimes, but still quite appealing for all its sometimes predatory flavors.
It is not hard to find the tree- across the street is an open field on a slight rise, and a single towering oak twisting it's way skyward. After thirteen hours in the car, it is good to stretch the legs again, to feel the sunset breeze across her skin. Both her human and angel sentiments agree that the tree is beautiful, and it is with soft reverence that she brushes her fingers over the rough bark.
She is suddenly overtaken by another memory, poignant in it's eerie similarity. Again, there is only one tree, again the sky is multi-hued. . .
"You have wings, silly! You know that you can fly to the top if you wish?"
"But Auntie Ana!" the giggling voice replies. "I can also do this!" The little form twists and pulls and leaps, one branch to the next. "This is fun, Auntie. . . what is it?"
She smiles. "This has been called a Tree. I thought you would like it."
A small face peers out from a spray of shimmering silver-green leaves, eyes suddenly old and deep. "Because the tree reaches down so very far, and reaches up so very far, but lives mostly in the middle. . . right?"
Anael nods. "And also because the Tree makes space within itself to shelter many, and offers fruit to eat and even its own wood for warmth and shelter."
The silence is somewhat heavy, the little one's eyes drifting down to where the roots plunge into the soil, and Anael knows that she is thinking of her Papa. A sudden chattering and flurry of movement distracts them both, two small furry things with fluffy tails chasing each other around branches and up the tree trunk.
"What are those, Auntie?"
Anael thinks a moment. "I believe Adam has named them 'squirrels'"
She sees the serious nod in her peripheral. "When I grow up, Auntie, I'm gonna be a squirrel!"
She laughs despite herself, the serious air dissipated. "You are an angel, little one, you cannot grow into a squirrel!"
"Nuh-uh!" the little form drops down a few branches in protest, little eyes twinkling with humor. "Auntie Gabriel and Uncle Raphael say I can grow up to be whatever I wanna be, and I wanna be a squirrel, because squirrels have awesome tails, they're so, so. . .poof!"
She chuckles, unable to argue such childish logic. "Alright silly squirrel, let's go tell your Daddy about your new plans . . ."
In a breath, she is brought back to the present, hands pressing into the bark of this lesser- but still magnificent- tree in Kentucky.
"What's that about squirrels?" Dean grunts from near her shoulder.
She huffs lightly. "A memory, nothing more." She turns to the two humans and the demon standing nearby. "My grace isn't here. Someone must have found it and taken it." The list of beings who could have taken it is quite small, but after thirteen hours on the road, not even Sam's mind is up to wrestling with that puzzle. She studies the two humans as they each loose themselves in thought. That memory, small as it was, shifted the perspective of everything else. Dean with his solid determination and devotion to his brother, and Sam, echoing that devotion, each ready to do literally anything for the other. Her eyes rest upon Sam. Into the breach once more . . .
Because of her new perspective, she does not tell them what she hears on "Angel Radio"- the angels issuing their ultimatum. It is a lie, she knows now, because there is no way they will allow Dean Winchester to return to Hell. They find a cheap motel and crash for a few hours, before hitting the road again. Somewhere along the way, Ruby leaves, and with her a measure of the brooding tension that had suffused the Impala since the evening before.
Back at Bobby's, she gives the list of who might have her grace- considering her former rank, it's a small list: Father, Michael, Raphael, Gabriel, Uriel, Raziel, Jophiel, Remiel, Metatron, Sandalphon, Tzadkiel. If Lucifer were free, his name would be on the list. Some names can immediately be removed- Father, Michael, Gabriel, Metatron . . . this is not something they would do. The others . . . it is hard to say. Her own biases and still incomplete memory hamper her logic, so she allows Sam and Bobby to takeover, and goes to watch the sunset. The stars are out by the time Dean joins her, asking why an angel would fall, would voluntarily leave Heaven and, with disgust in his voice, "become one of us?"
Such a human sentiment, to think so little of himself, of his existence. Like a sunbeam that believed itself to be only the small flicker of light on the forest floor. He's not yet able to grasp this truth that he is asking for, but perhaps she can plant some seeds. So she tells him about all the good things humans have, and there's a brief back and forth, reminiscent of a scene from Disney's Aladdin.
There is a moment when his teasing might develop into something more, but she halts it quickly.
"It's not that I wouldn't," she says with a grin. "As the angel of the sphere of Netzach, Eros is very much my thing. But you are not in full possession of your faculties, and there are risks I will not take."
"Full possession of my- you think I'm drunk or somethin'?" He sounds somewhat affronted, and she hastens to reassure.
"Not at all, Dean. You simply haven't remembered everything yet. When you do, you will be glad I did not give in to my own desire this time."
She does not mention that when Castiel remembers- and she is sure that he will, soon- he would not accept such interference either. He may not be an archangel, and he may not remember it yet, but he is the most talented protege of Heaven's Assassin- which means that strength matters little when he decides on a target. And being caught between such an angel and the talented, human student of Alistair. . . no, she's not that sort of idiot.
Dean is wearing that constipated scowl that indicates displeasure that hasn't yet found words. There's also a look of befuddlement around the eyebrows. She gently touches his cheek with her fingertips.
"When next you dream, skip to the end. Remember how it ended. Then you will understand."
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They arrive at the warehouse early, but are surprised when Uriel and Castiel show up right after. The humans are immediately on the defensive, and look at Castiel as though he as betrayed them. He hasn't though, she can see that- he might be wearing a "non-expression", but even without her Grace, she can see the tension around his eyes, broadcasting his acute distress. Smart boy, he knows things are wrong, even if he can't remember how they should be.
Uriel shocks everyone though when, instead of speaking, he raises his empty palms in a very human gesture, and then pulls a chain off from around his neck. It is her Grace, shining brightly in the dim light, calling to her.
"Forgive me, sister," He says. "I was not in full possession of my faculties when I took this." She and Dean startle at his phrasing. She knows Uriel was not around last night- he has never been able to disguise the heavy feeling of his presence, even from humans. He could not have heard what she said to Dean. But that he would use the same phrase, in such a similar way . . .
She takes the pendant from her brother as Castiel murmurs, "But, our orders. . ." He is confused but, when she glances up to his face, she sees the glimmer of hope in his eyes.
"Funny thing about our orders," Uriel says with a smirk. "Zachariah received them as an email while we were gathered in that bistro in Soho. As such, they were written in English, not Enochian. And, in English, the meaning of 'to take care of someone' can have two very opposite meanings. . . "
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There are no words in any language that can describe the feeling of being reunited with Grace. She is finally whole again, in memory and in being, and she now understands what has been happening. After such a thing, the arrival of the demons is almost anti-climactic. Castiel attacks with a ferocious focus, Dean wide-eyed as the usually mild-mannered "Nerd Angel" transforms into a demon-killing machine before his eyes, all deadly grace and cold efficiency. Anael casually lifts Ruby's knife as she flees- she allows the demon to run for now-she may still be of use. Anael more concerned with the fight between Dean and Alistair.
The human needs this, needs to release all the poison that's been building in his psyche due to the sadist's work. Sam seems to understand this, and uses the last of his augmented strength to pin the demon while Dean attacks. She can see, now, that they both need this. Dean needs the cathartic release of confronting his tormentor- with Sam at his side. And Sam needs to be able to do something to help his brother, to affirm that perhaps he's not as useless as he was starting to suspect himself of being.
It is with a smile that Anael offers the knife to Dean, and with a grin that she watches the infamous Alistair die at the hands of his most talented student.
Justice, she thinks, tastes a lot like a good cup of coffee.
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Next: Castiel. (Squee! Finally!)
I managed to convince Balthazar to wait a few more chapters. Bastard demanded copious amounts of expensive champagne and a room full of supermodels. But not "the ones that look really hungry, because they look more creepy than sexy. Get some girls with bosoms, for Christ's sake. . ." *sigh* yes, he's quite particular . . .
Finally, thanks to those of you who have "Favorited" this, or added an alert for it. I hope I do not disappoint.