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Woe to the idol shepherd that leaveth the flock! the sword [shall be] upon his arm, and upon his right eye: his arm shall be clean dried up, and his right eye shall be utterly darkened.

-Zachariah 11:17

Woe for the Idol Shepherd

When Castiel returns to Heaven, there is silence.

Not the peaceful, serene silence of the old days, but something heavy and pervasive. There is a tension, tangible and filled with fear. Heaven is still in defense, still slow to realize the truth. Lucifer is gone; Michael is gone; the Apocalypse is over before it began.

Angels flit by him, turning away their faces. He can't tell if they're disgusted or ashamed.

"Castiel."

Zaniel is among the first to meet him. "How are you alive?" The angel asks, wondering. Zaniel has always been close to Castiel, and the angel of Thursday pauses a moment to bask in the long-missed wash of a Brother's Grace. Zaniel is a Watcher, he knows, and took no part in the raids or fights for Heaven. "We were watching the final battle. We saw you die - the Dragon killed you."

"He did," says Castiel.

"How - "

"I was brought back."

And that makes Zaniel go very, very still.

"...I'd heard whispers - but - "

"They are true."

"Did you see Him?"

There is only one person Zaniel could mean. "No." And the other angel is deflating, Grace graying, but Castiel doesn't care to be gentle anymore, hasn't for a long time. That is War. "Where is my unit?"

It's something he's long wondered, but never dared ask. And who would he ask? But there was a good reason to remain ignorant, perhaps, because Zaniel goes very stiff.

"...You don't know?"

Castiel just tilts his head. "I know the higher division fell to Uriel, long ago. What of the others?"

"Your lower division, they - they were executed, Castiel. All of them, by Raphael."

The silence of Heaven seems darker, stifling, and it waits.

"...Executed?"

"For - treason." Zaniel's wings shift, and he looks away, as though uncomfortable. "Raphael suspected them, due to your - presence, your influence - "

"They were not involved - "

"I know!" Zaniel insists, quickly. "But - " Helplessly; "Raphael ordered it..."

Raphael ordered it. An archangel gave an order, so who was to disobey? Who was to rebel? No one, with Castiel gone. The will of Heaven can be summed as the will of Heaven's leader, and right now that isn't God or Michael or Gabriel - it's Raphael, cold, callous Raphael, the divine healer, the executioner. Raphael, who spurred the Apocalypse and helped draw out Lucifer.

Raphael, Commander of Heaven.

Raphael, Castiel's brother.

Raphael, a voice in Castiel whispers, who killed them all.

"And he is in charge of Heaven," Castiel says. It is not a question.

"Yes. Of course."

"You realize, do you not, that he encouraged the Apocalypse? Helped set up the would-be final battle?"

"...He is the only archangel left."

He killed seven of my brothers, Castiel thinks. Your archangel slaughtered them, my charges - no.

He speaks, voice ringing with power and Grief and Grace. "Raphael defied the will of God."

There is a terrible roaring, like a divine wind, and Zaniel draws away. The silence is consuming, engulfing them, and Castiel feels every ear in Heaven listening in. He raises his voice, high and piercing and imbued with something ancient and old, something no mere malakhim should possess. "Raphael is a traitor to Heaven. Father has brought me back; I know this. Join me, Brothers, to roust the usurper from his perch. There is no mercy."

And the silence ends, just like that, the whisper of voices rushing into the corners of Heaven like a million panicked mice, and angels are appearing. Dozens, dozens, flying to Castiel's side, watching him with adoration, some nodding or saluting or bowing, all look relieved, most a little guilty. Raphael is wrong, wrong, wrong, but they never dared to say so, and now here is Castiel, Castiel who helped cast down the devil, Castiel whom Father revived and blessed not once but twice, imbuing him with new powers and gifts and honor. Castiel is their leader, their bright new leader, and they will follow him unto death.

Just like my seven, Castiel thinks, and it hurts. He chants their names in his head, like a macabre prayer, the first prayer he's thought in an age. Sereniel, Jesiel, Umbeliel, Parisuel, Nuemiel, Temiel, Destriel - I will not forget. I will never forget.

And Heaven will not let Raphael go unpunished.