Chapter Nine: So You Want To Be A Warrior For God

Six years ago…

Life, to put it lightly, changed after that.

Everything that once defined Eli quickly fell away. After much persistence, Bobby agreed to continue to train her. She lived in his spare room. He taught her to fight, shoot, read Latin, identify any and all types of supernatural nasties. He taught her about salt and iron, hex bags, how to make a sawed-off shotgun, how to melt down her own silver rounds. They went on hunts together. She cooked dinner and tucked a blanket around him when he fell asleep on the couch.

Dealing with her parents was difficult, and unsafe, so she cut off contact with them. Eli traveled to visit them, once, about two months after the incident at the warehouse. She told them that she had relocated, that she had a new job, that she would call them when she got the chance. They didn't believe her, just cried at her thinner, harder frame and the fresh bruises not completely hidden by her long sleeves, convinced that she was doing drugs. She left them with kisses and clumsy placations, only to return that night to lay salt under the bricks that framed the doors and windows and place wards at the edges of the property.

Eli felt like she should feel worse about abandoning her family, and she did miss them in the dark quiet hours when she couldn't fall asleep and her muscles and bones ached from long sparring sessions and hunts, but she was just too busy, and too satisfied, to give them more than a passing thought.

For the first time in her life, Eli felt fulfilled, like she finally was where she was supposed to be. She wasn't always happy, and more often than not she was wounded, but she was a fighter, and damn proud of it. She gritted her teeth while Bobby popped in dislocated shoulders and sewed up cuts with string and whiskey. She learned to drink hard liquor and cheat at poker and work credit card scams and create her own fake licenses and FBI badges. She was free.

And then there was her other training.

It happened first about three months after her visit with Zachariah. Eli had been trying to summon the power that could burn a demon's skin, but without real demons to work on she was often just left with a headache and a nose bleed. The best she could do was make her hand glow faintly, and light up a bulb when she held it, but the warmth was nothing. "Like an easy-bake oven," Bobby once drawled. "Maybe you can bake little brownies with your magical angel powers."

That's when he started to come in her dreams.

When it first happened, Eli found herself standing on the sloping hill that overlooked her old university, the place she used to go on quiet summer days to write papers and read books and listen to scraggly young men play the guitar. The place was empty now, the world in perpetual twilight. She was barefoot, again, in her favorite ripped jeans and a soft-as-silk sweater, her short hair smooth and curling around her ears. She looked side to side, waiting for the appearance she knew would come.

"Hello, Elijah."

She spun around. Behind her stood a man. He looked about thirty years old, with a crop of dark hair and the most beautiful blue eyes she had ever seen. She edged closer to him, unsure.

"…Castiel?"

He nodded solemnly.

"Who…why do you look like that?"

He walked toward her. He was wearing a blue shirt with the top button undone and the sleeves rolled up, his tan pants neatly pressed. "You said the last time we spoke that you did not wish me to take the appearance of someone you already knew." His voice had the same low, rough quality as before, but in this body it suited him.

"Who are you, then?" Eli asked. He came to a stop a few inches from where she stood, so that she had to tilt her head back to look him in the face.

"His name is James Novak," Castiel said. "He is my destined vessel. I have not taken him yet, but I thought that it would be best if you grew accustomed to seeing me in this form."

"Ah," she said, appraising him. "Good choice." He looked confused.

"It was not my choice. He is destined to be…"

"Yeah yeah, I get it," she said, trying to change the subject. "What about the clothes? Nice chinos."

He looked down at himself as if surprised to be wearing anything at all. "I am simply taking on the appearance of the clothing he is wearing at this moment."

"And what if he wasn't wearing anything?" she asked, a smile playing on her lips.

He frowned, his brow crinkling, apparently deep in thought. Finally he looked up. "That is of no importance. I am here to see you about your attempts to control your powers."

"And?" she asked, expecting another reprimand.

"And I have been sent to help you develop them."

Eli hesitated, confused. "You… have? I mean, you will?"

He shifted on his feet and looked beyond her, his mouth set in a straight line, brow furrowed. "I have convinced my superiors that if you are going to keep your power, you might as well be able to use it properly. They agreed, after much debate. The responsibility to train you has been laid on my head."

"Oh," she said, looking down at her hands. "Thank you."

"I simply did not wish for you to die by a demon's hand when it could have been easily prevented," he said stiffly.

"Right, well, considering heaven hates me and most of my dreams lately consist of disembodied angel voices screaming that I'm a monster, the fact that you don't want me dead is very much appreciated," Eli said, smiling. "I'd hug you if I didn't think it would make you highly uncomfortable."

"Yes. It would be best if you did not," he said with no humor in his voice. "Are you ready to begin? We haven't much time. You don't sleep much lately."

"To learn how to use my semi-angelic powers for something other than powering an easy-bake oven? I'll sleep all day," she quipped. He frowned at her.

"That would not be advisable."

Eli rolled her eyes and sighed. "Let's just do this."

It took a long time, but Eli finally got the hang of things. She learned that she could not only burn demons, but exorcize them with a touch and a lot of concentration. The rush of power was incredible, like electricity buzzing in her bones. Often her dreams would be dark and terrifying, the demons in them realistic as they clawed and hissed and spat at her, but Castiel was always by her side, guiding her with steady words, and slowly her abilities grew.

She also learned that she could, if she concentrated very hard, locate an angel if one was nearby and sometimes even hear snippets of their conversations, but this was one of the most difficult tasks and often left her with a pounding migraine when she awoke. Her healing powers were also very weak, her ability to heal minor cuts and abrasions not worth the splitting headaches they caused.

"Don't push yourself too hard," Castiel told her time after time. "Ignore the pleasant sensation that accompanies the power. If you drain yourself by tackling a problem too large, you could fall into a coma or worse."

Exorcism was by far her best skill. After a year Eli wasn't just exorcising demons, she was killing them. After two years, she didn't even have to fully touch their skin; she could hold her hand a few inches away and still fry the demon to a crisp.

"Good," Castiel said once, standing next to her in a dark dream-street. "You are progressing quickly."

"Yeah, I can feel it," she said, wiping sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. "The headaches aren't nearly as bad anymore."

"Your fighting skills do seem to be your strongest attribute."

"Yeah, why do you think that is?" She pushed her braid behind her shoulder and turned to face him. He was staring at the dead dream-demon with a thoughtful frown on his face.

"It is probably because your father is a warrior."

"My real father?" Eli asked, taking a step closer to Castiel and touching him lightly on the sleeve. "Cas, do you know who he is?"

He stared at her hand as if it were some strange foreign entity. "Yes."

"Who is he?" she asked. "Can you tell me?"

"I should not…" he began, but she interrupted him.

"Are they listening to us now? Will they know if you do?"

"No…" he said slowly.

"Then Cas, please tell me. I think I have a right to know."

Castiel was silent for such a long time Eli began to think he had fallen asleep standing up. Finally he nodded.

"All right."

It was shortly after that that Eli began to explore new ways to use her gifts.

She could now practice her talents in the real world. Standing in Bobby's yard full of trucks, she hefted a baseball and concentrated. It took over a month of attempts until finally she got the ball to flare with light, but every time it left her hands it would fizzle and die out.

Castiel was the one who finally brought it up. "Your power is drained lately," he said one night as she arrived in dream-world, this time standing in an abandoned warehouse. "You have been using it too frequently outside of our visits."

"Yeah, well, I've been trying something new," she said, turning to face him.

"Which is?" he asked, stepping into the light.

Eli's jaw dropped. "What…what are you wearing?" she asked, giggling helplessly.

Castiel looked down at his image. He was barefoot and in a flannel nightshirt and pants, complete with cartoon dancing pandas. "What my vessel is wearing at this moment," he said sternly. "Is there a problem?"

Eli nearly doubled over with laughter. "You are not teaching me how to fight demons in your jim-jams!" she gasped out, tears in her eyes.

He pondered this for a moment. "So I am to take it that this is…inappropriate dress for the situation," he said carefully. Eli wheezed, laughter coming out of her in snorts and jerks.

"Yeah, inappropriate…unless you want me to get you a teddy bear and some chocolate milk!" Then she couldn't speak anymore, the laughter was too strong.

"Hm," he said, eyeing her nearly prone form. "This is a problem. I did not realize that mirth could be so…incapacitating."

"I'm okay, I'm okay," Eli breathed, holding her hands up. "I got this. Whew." She stood and wiped tears from her eyes, a few final giggles escaping her lips. "I needed that. I haven't laughed much lately."

"I am glad to have been of service," Castiel said, and if she didn't know any better she would say he sounded sarcastic. "Is this more appropriate?"

He was back in the button-down blue shirt and tan pants. Eli nodded. "Much."

"So," he said, brushing past the previous conversation as if it never happened. "What exactly are you attempting to achieve by draining all of your power into a small leather ball?"

"The ball is just the first step," she explained, still breathing deeply in an attempt to calm her aching sides. "I'm trying to project the light into an object that I can then send away from my body."

He tilted his head like a bird. "Why?"

"Because," Eli said, closing her eyes and concentrating. She had long ago learned that, this being her dreams, she could control certain aspects of the situation. After a moment she felt the familiar flush of metal against her palms and held up her weapons. "I'm a really good shot."

Castiel took a few steps forward until he was unsettlingly close her, studying the guns carefully. At this proximity Eli could even smell him; he must have taken on every physical aspect from his soon-to-be vessel. He smelled of faint cologne and laundry detergent and warm skin and, underneath it all, a tinge of sunlight and clean air. She breathed deeply.

"How do you plan to use human projectile weapons in coincidence with your power?" he asked, completely oblivious to her thoughts. Eli blushed and stepped away.

"If I can project my power into my guns, or more specifically into the bullets, then I could weaponize it, kill demons from a greater distance with greater speed."

She waited for Castiel to tell her that this was stupid, that it couldn't be done, or that it was a misuse of her power, that it went against God or angels or something. He merely tilted his head.

"Hmmm," he said. "That would be … difficult. But possible. I have never… considered using heaven's light in such a way."

Eli breathed a quiet sigh of relief. "That's because you're not human," she said. Inside she repeated the words, trying to force herself to remember the same thing. "It's called thinking outside the box."

"And you think that this… ability, should you achieve it, would better enable you to protect yourself and those around you, to do God's work?" He looked at her now, his eyes steely in the dim light. She nodded.

"Yeah, I do."

"Then, I believe that I can help. But you will need patience. This will take many years. And you must follow my every instruction and promise not to attempt anything outside of our visits. Do you understand?"

She nodded again. "Cross my heart."

"I don't know what that means."

"It means yes," Eli said, smiling.

"Good," he said in his rough voice, stepping closer to her again and putting two fingers on her forehead to calm her mind. "You must start with meditation and relaxation. Practice clearing your mind. The channeling will come later. Much later."

It took nearly four years.

Eli was just learning to use two guns at once when her training was interrupted. Castiel suddenly stopped appearing her dreams. For a few nights she simply wandered the abandoned streets, buildings, and fields of her mind, calling his name. After a month she resigned herself that he wasn't coming back and began practicing on her own.

One evening she was cooking dinner in an empty house. Eli was now twenty-five and had long left Bobby's; she had been hunting alone for years. The owners were away for the summer at their vacation home in Bali, and it hadn't taken much to convince neighbors that the cute girl with the buns on top of her head was the house sitter. Plus, there was a lot of demon activity in the general area to keep her busy, and it was wonderful to sleep on a cloud-soft bed and cook with a fully-stocked kitchen.

She had an apron around her waist and was just taste-testing her homemade marinara sauce when she sensed she wasn't alone.

"Hello, Elijah."

Eli spit out the scalding sauce and spun around. "Castiel? Where have you been?" She smiled at his familiar face, noting the suit and loose, John Constantine-eque trench coat he wore, but then saw the unknown darker man lurking behind him. "Wait a minute, is this a dream?"

"This is not a dream, Elijah," Castiel said, in a more formal manner than he used in years. She realized, intuitively, that it was for the benefit of the other angel. "The seals are being broken. The apocalypse is fast approaching. I have taken my vessel."

"Oh…wow." She paused, unsure of what to say. "Uh, who's your friend?"

"This is Uriel," Castiel said, inclining his head to the other angel. "He is a specialist. He is here to…help facilitate an agreement."

"What kind of agreement?" Eli asked suspiciously.

"Call it a business arrangement," Uriel said in a booming voice. His vessel was broad shouldered, dark and bald, with a glowering, pugilistic face. "Though it sickens me that heaven has to enter into any kind of arrangement with you." He said 'you' as if it tasted badly in his mouth. Eli crossed her arms and gritted her teeth.

"Oh, so you're one of those angels," she snapped. "Sorry to sully your holy purity with my ungodly presence."

"Apology noted," he said, not understanding her sarcasm. "But it does not change anything."

Eli decided it would be best to ignore him. She turned instead to the angel she had long considered her friend. "Why are you here, Cassss….tiel," she stuttered at his stern look, realizing that a show of familiarity would not be appropriate. He gazed at her steadily, but there was an echo of something in his eyes: Worry? Trepidation? Doubt?

"The Winchesters," he finally said, turning away from her. "You know of them."

"Yeah, they're friends with Bobby Singer. Hunters. Sam and Dean, right? But…Dean Winchester's dead, isn't he? I heard he was pulled into hell." She didn't add, I know because I held Bobby as he cried like a baby after it happened.

"Dean Winchester is no longer in hell," Uriel intoned. "He walks the earth once more. He has been saved."

"Oh," Eli said, surprised. "I didn't know you could do that."

"That's because we usually don't," Castiel said, still not looking at her. It was so strange to see him in real life; he looked somehow more… three-dimensional. More tangible, and yet fragile, like she could sense the blood humming in his veins. He crossed his long fingers in front of him contemplatively. "Dean is… very special. Important. He has work to do."

"As do you," Uriel said coldly, and Eli jerked her head back to him. "Though you are not nearly as important or special."

"Thanks for that," she intoned dryly. "What do you want me to do?" She directed the question at Castiel, but again it was Uriel who answered her.

"Protect them."

"Excuse me?" She turned to Uriel, quirking an eyebrow. "Did I hear you correctly?"

"You have been working for the past six years to turn your polluted abilities into a weapon, have you not?" he sneered. She put her hands on her hips.

"Listen, buddy, I know you're an angel and all, but I don't really appreciate…"

"Just answer the question, Elijah," Castiel said quietly.

"Yes, I have," she snapped. "But you already knew that."

"Now is your chance to use them for something good," Uriel said with scorn in his voice, as if he could barely believe that he was saying it. "To rise above the abominative nature of your birth. Accept this assignment, protect the Winchesters, and Heaven will be inclined to… reward you for your efforts."

"Reward me with what?" Eli asked suspiciously. Uriel stared at her, hard, his hulking body intimidating.

"We can make you pure. Give you what you lack, deep within your soul."

"Yeah, that's great, but what does it mean?" Eli bit out, frustrated.

"A grace," Castiel said quietly, with a strange note of sadness in his voice. "He's talking about blessing you with a grace."

"An angelic grace?" she asked, her hands falling from her sides in shock. "Wait wait wait, as in, get my wings? As in, become an angel?"

"It is within our power," Uriel said stiffly in his deep voice. "If you prove yourself, if you redeem yourself, to wash away your sins and accept you into the heavenly fold."

"And you want this?" she scoffed skeptically.

"Of course not," Uriel said with venom. "It would be a disgrace on all of us to allow such an abomination to join the brotherhood. But we have our orders, and I will not disobey them. The Winchesters must be kept safe. You are the choice of Heaven. Will you accept your duties?"

Eli looked at Castiel, who was carefully avoiding her eyes. "This is true, then," she said. "I could really become an angel."

"Yes," Castiel said, very softly. "If you wish it."

"I… I don't know what to say," Eli said, almost shyly. She twisted her hands, realizing belatedly that she was still wearing the 'If You Can't Take the Heat, Get Out Of The Kitchen!' apron she had found in the house. "I'll need to think on it."

"There isn't time," Uriel growled.

"No, I mean…" She took a deep breath. "Of course I'll protect the Winchesters. Of course. I just… need to think about this whole angel thing for a while. It's a generous offer, I just need…time."

Uriel started to say something but Castiel held up his hand. "We understand," he said, finally meeting her eyes, and she was surprised to see something akin to relief reflected in their depths. "Just… complete your duties. Protect them, and … Heaven will be grateful."

Eli knew she was being crazy, but for a moment she could have sworn he was about to say I instead of Heaven. She shook herself out of it.

"Great." She looked down and started to unknot the apron from around her waist. "Where do I find them?"

"Go to Robert Singer," Uriel intoned loftily. "He will lead you to them. Go now."

"Okay, but what should I…" Eli looked up, but the two angels were gone. "Damn."