Staring straight ahead, I watched a long line of humans being brought in chained before us, the other angels and me. Their chains were made of silvery titanium, light but strong and intricately decorated - more for show than for shame.

I was standing on a dais with a few hundred other angels who had been chosen for service in the war to receive this reward of a human being. It was an honor that I did not want. Yet I could not refuse, and, truly, the thought of disobedience never occurred to me. Such a thing was impossible.

So I waited, half-listening to Michael, the highest archangel and our victorious leader. His speech was thankfully short. After which, he went down the rows of angels, swiftly pinning medals onto our breastplates. Respectfully, I lowered my head when my turn came. It was difficult for me to understand why I was being rewarded for doing my duty; I had only done what was expected.

But there I was, being rewarded by the highest members of heaven. I looked down at the rows of humans standing before us all. The second reward.

Michael and the others did not call them slaves, but the implication was certainly there. They were spoils of war, though had, oddly enough, fought on our side. While the rest of the world burned, only these chosen few had been snatched up and saved. On higher orders than Michael's, they were to serve us, as we protected them. While our brothers and sisters fought only a few dozen miles away and around the world, we few were expected to remain.

I tried to stop myself from shifting uncomfortably. I longed to stretch my wings out and shake off the unpleasantness, but I kept them folded in and invisible. Balthazar, my comrade in arms and close friend, moved slightly next to me. Balthazar disliked humans more than me, and had even dared to whisper his complaints earlier that day. I wondered how many other angels felt the same way. If the humans did not want this as well... but that was not my place to say. Who was I to question the Will of the Lord?

Returning my focus to the ceremony, I watched as Michael motioned to Rachel, a lower angel holding the lead of the first human in the chain. With a formal bow, she led the line of humans closer to the steps leading up to the dais where we stood. The humans jerked and stumbled, trying to keep the line together. Those near the front showed dismay or fear on their faces when they saw how one lesser angel could pull along several hundred humans. Of course, I am no expert in the subtle variations of human emotions, but through years of study, I have learned to recognize the most obvious ones.

One at a time, Michael called an angel forward from the ranks, unhooked a human from the line, and handed them over. It was a tedious business, and I found it almost difficult to concentrate. I was still weary, having only left the battleground a day ago. The two other archangels were called up first. Raphael was greatly honored by being given the Prophet Chuck.

Every angel knew the Prophet Chuck. His visions gave us great insight to the Last Battle, and his words told about every human in the room - part of the reason they were before us now. Every angel had read his words (as slipshod as many of us thought them to be). Raphael's face was impassive as he led the meek and worn-out prophet out of the chamber.

Gabriel, the youngest archangel, walked up to Michael next. For the last century, I had worked directly under Gabriel, and had fought by his side in the last months. Despite his impressive status (and less than impressive height), I found him friendly and clever. Rachel brought a tall, young man to him. Gabriel frowned as he looked up at the giant of a man, but then laughed to himself at a joke only he understood. Gabriel was like that - he had an odd sense of humor among angels that did not have much of one at all. Balthazar was usually the only one who laughed with him, and had long ago stopped trying to explain his jokes to me.

Gabriel led the tall boy out of the room, whistling a call under his breath. Balthazar snorted quietly at the joke I did not understand.

Higher ranking angels were paired with other humans after that. Patient, I waited, while Balthazar fidgeted next to me.

Finally, it was our turn. Balthazar strode forward in a manner that I would call proud if he was not an angel. An older, bearded man was given to him. Balthazar glanced back at me and rolled his eyes. I frowned - another joke I did not comprehend.

After Balthazar left the assembly room, Michael called my name. Rachel brought a young man to my side. I was shocked to recognize him as Dean Winchester. The Dean Winchester. Famous in the Prophet Chuck's manuscripts as being the bravest, loyalist, most foolhardy human warrior in these last days. I glanced at Michael, and he must have read the confusion on my face, for surely some other angel was more worthy of this honor. I believe the corner of Michael's mouth twitched slightly, but I cannot be certain. He stated firmly, "You are worthy enough, Castiel." I bowed my head in acquiescence; I knew better than to question my leader further.

Taking the cool titanium chain in my hand, I carefully lead Dean Winchester out of the room, making sure he did not stumble as some of the other humans had. This was a high honor indeed. As we exited the room, I looked back at my charge and saw a dangerously angry light in his eyes, and for an instant, I wished I was not worthy enough.

I thought it interesting how Dean Winchester attempted to stare me down; how this fragile being glared into the eyes of a deadly, immortal being. He was either brave or foolish, probably both; I would have to discover which was more. Eventually, his green eyes dropped, and he stared down at the floor.

We stood in my- our new home. We would live together in this human building well inside the safe zone. It was a ramshackle building made of wood and brick and concrete and could never compare to the marble and cedar covered in millions of sparkling jewels that was my real home. I held back a sigh. This reward was turning more and more into punishment every minute.

I felt I should say something, but I was unsure of what the proper words were when welcoming someone to their new living arrangement when neither of you want to be there. Instead, I stated, "I'm going to remove your chains now." Instead of touching them (or him), I willed them off, and they clamored to the floor.

Dean Winchester flinched at the sound, but refused to look back up. Stubborn.

I cleared my throat.

I wished there was a manual for these types of situations.

"Would you like to look around?" I asked.

His head snapped up. He didn't say anything only shrugged.

That would have to do. I walked out of the entryway. "This is the living room." I walked inside. "There is a television set over there." Should I point at it? I did. "There are couches to sit on." I walked out of the living room into the kitchen. "This is the kitchen. You can make your own food." I turned to him. "Can you cook, Dean Winchester?"

"I'll survive."

"That is the point." I went with the assumption that all kitchens are similar enough - complex minefields used to prepare small quantities of sustenance that only last a short time and are generally do not provide enough energy to be worth it. I left the kitchen and moved down the hall.

"This is the dining room. You can eat in here."

"This is the hallway. You can see the garden through these windows."

"These are your rooms - will they do, Dean Winchester?" I pointed through the doorway of a bedroom with a connected bathroom.

The man poked his head inside, looking around. "Better than I expected. You don't have to call me 'Dean Winchester,' you know?"

I was confused. "That is your name, is it not?"

He snorted, poking around the room. "That's my full name; we humans usually just go by our first."

Comprehension. I felt vaguely foolish. "I will call you 'Dean' then."

"Whatever." His tone was gruff. After looking around for a moment more, he turned back to me. "All right, I give. What's the joke? Where're the candid cameras?"

I frowned. "I do not understand."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Dean snapped, "I'm serious. This place can't be for me."

"Is there something wrong with your accommodations? You may switch with mine; I do not actually require a place to sleep-"

He interrupted, "Look, I might be acting like the kid who asks what the homework is at the end of class when the teacher forgets, but why all the nice? Where's the dungeon with the chains and the torture?"

I understood. "Who told you were going to be tortured?"

Dean shrugged. "That's what we all thought. I mean, you captured all us humans, chained us up, and told us we were going to be your captives."

I stretched myself to my full height (in my human shape, which was regrettably slightly shorter than Dean), and stated, firmly, "I am an angel of the Lord. Angels of the Lord do not torture people who follow the Lord. This is your reward."

Dean muttered, "You keep saying 'reward,' and I'm thinking that doesn't mean the same thing to you that it does to us."

"The War is over and the Seven Years of Tribulation has begun; the world is being cleansed. You righteous men and women have been spared. Yes, you do get less freedom than you are used to; we will not allow you to harm yourselves. You will be safe, protected, and cared for."

Dean did not respond other than shaking his head.

I continued, "You have water, food, shelter; is there anything you require?"

I blinked as Dean's fist swung back and struck me in the jaw. I heard bones crack. Dean swore, holding his hand close to his body.

"You cannot hurt me," I informed him. "I may be in a human shape, but I am still infinitely stronger than you are. Give me your hand." Dean hesitated, but I took his elbow and pulled it away from his body. Gently, I took his broken hand in mine. "Fourth and fifth metacarpals." I willed them to knit themselves back together. The bones obeyed better than he did. "There." I released his hand.

Dean stared it at it, then at me. His lips moved, but no sound came out.

"You cannot hurt me, Dean. You cannot escape this house. You cannot fight me, poison me, or trick me. You will only bring harm to yourself." I hoped we could come to an understanding now; I would have to see how stubborn he really was.

His jaw worked as his thought (about what, I cannot say, since man's thoughts are hidden from us). Finally, he asked, "What am I supposed to do?"

I nodded. "Every creature needs a purpose beyond survival. I do not know what your purpose is here or what the purpose of us being brought together here. But for now, I suggest you go to bed and rest. We can figure everything else out in the morning."

Dean stared at me.

I stared back, unsure if I had been unclear.

"Fine," he mumbled. He turned and walked off to his room.

I sighed when I heard his bedroom door close, but then frowned when I realized he was still on the side of the door and trying to sneak down the other end of the hallway. Tricks would not work on me.

As he opened the door into the last room down the hall, I appeared inside it. "Do you need anything, Dean?" I motioned around me, "This is my room, but you are welcome to anything you want from it."

Admirably keeping this shock out of his voice, he stated, "I'm going to bed now."

"Good night." I believed that was the correct response.

He grunted.

Punishment indeed.

I waited for several minutes after Dean had fallen asleep to make certain that he was not pretending before allowing myself to relax. I had an urge to dash over to Gabriel's or Balthazar's or really any other angel to see what they were doing with their charges. Was it possible that anyone else was having as much trouble as I was?

Instead, I straightened my shoulders and allowed myself to stretch out my wings. I pulled the Prophet Chuck's (or perhaps it was just Chuck) works off the library. Since they were mostly unfinished manuscripts scattered around his apartment now, some angel was given the task of putting them all together for us to read until the official version was ready. Thus, our copies changed on our shelves all the time, occasionally while being read. It was confusing, but the usefulness far outweighed the hassle.

I skipped ahead to the chapters about the Winchester family. (Entire chapters had been written about them!) I am not ashamed to admit, that I had always found their family fascinating. Ever since the first draft of the Chuck's book appeared in Heaven's libraries eight years ago, I found myself being drawn to read their story over and over again.

I skipped ahead to the familiar chapters and quickly skimmed through them until the boys Dean and Sam were born. Ah, Sam! I just then recognized the tall, younger man who had been given to Gabriel. He was another force to be considered.

As I re-read the passages, I noted down several things that I thought would be helpful. First, Dean had an almost self-destructive loyalty to his family. Seeing his family and friends well and cared for would certainly be beneficial. Second, Dean appeared to enjoy danger, based on the high magnitude of times he found himself in it. Third, Dean really liked food. There was hardly a tale about one of his exploits that did not off-handily mention him eating something, usually meat from a bovine.

Why Chuck felt the need to include such random details was beyond me, but I would use whatever help I could get.

I thought over which aspect of Dean I should consider first. Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs might come in handy. I pulled a thick psychology book down off the bookshelf. (The Higher Ups had insisted on us angels having a general knowledge of human physiology and psychology, though I doubted most of the others had actually done the required reading.) There it was - the lowest level and most important - physiological: breathing, food, water, sex, sleep, homeostasis, excretion. Breathing was covered fairly well, I thought. He had a bedroom for sleep and a bathroom for excretion. I hoped these were needs he could attend to by himself. Homeostasis - I'd just have to keep him balanced and healthy. Sex as a need was more of an urge to procreate (go forth and multiply!), and in these Days that was not much of an issue. Finally, food was where I could help Dean by providing his favorites. Good. Now, that I knew what to do with the lowest level, we could move up the chart.

Next level was safety, and this is where family fit in. Once he saw that his brother Sam was cared for, he would feel much better. I'd have to ask him which of the people mentioned in his stories he considered friends, since the concept in relation to humans was a bit hazy to me. After that I could easily deal with the rest of the issues on that level. I was unsure about where his need for excitement and danger fit it - esteem or self-actualization perhaps, but that was higher up on the pyramid and could be dealt with later. For the first time, I felt confident that I could make my charge be a healthy, productive human being.

At least until my grumpy, unproductive human being came down the stairs and insisted he was not mine at all.

Well, he did not specifically say he was not mine, but his entire manner insisted it was not so.

Dean glowered at me, face creased and eyes groggy.

I nodded cordially. Was it appropriate to ask how his sleep went? (We angels do not require rest other than meditation on the Lord.) I decided to let him speak first and follow his lead.

"Look, buster," Dean growled, "You seem like a nice dude for a dick and all, but I'm getting out of here! So you, whatever-your-name-is, and your angel buddies can just stuff it."

Ah.

"Dean, I thought you would like to visit your brother." There. That took the fight out of him. Whoever said that angels cannot be tricky, did not know of what they spoke.

I continued, "Right now, you are not allowed out of the yard without an escort, but, of course, you will want to visit your brother. I can take you." I let that last bit hang in the air.

Dean nodded once.

Well, I would take what I could get. I turned and opened the front door. Of course, Dean noticed that it was not locked, but if he thought he could escape later this way, he was in for another surprise. I lead the way down the porch and onto the side walk. "My name is Castiel, by the way."

I felt him looking at me, but Dean made no comment. I frowned; I was absolutely terrible at making conversation. Even the other angels found me dull. My mind struggled for something to say.

"Did you have a good sleep?" Sigh.

He snorted, "Sure."

Now, I knew: asking how one slept is not an appropriate human practice. At least with Dean.

We were silent the rest of the walk, both of us preferring it that way. It was a short way to Gabriel's place, we were on the same street in fact. As I turned up the front walk, I turned to explain something about curfew and visiting hours, but the man brushed past me and shot up the steps and into the house. I then noticed yelling coming from indoors.

I sighed.

I walked indoors and blinked at the scene in front of me. Balthazar had apparently brought his charge over already. Dean was facing down both Balthazar and Gabriel, standing protectively in front of his brother Sam and the other man. I did not understand the meaning behind Dean's words, but I certainly understood the bitter tone he spat them out with. Balthazar and Gabriel were snapping back at him. An angel annoyed is a fearsome sight compared to humans. The other two showed signs of fear, but Dean was too angry to be frightened as he stood protectively in front of the other two. Not that it would do any amount of good.

It always happened like this, did it not? Either Gabriel or Balthazar would lose their far-too-short tempers, and I would be forced to intervene. Walking over, I gave both of them a slight touch on their arms and faced the humans. Attempting to calm them as well, I tried to soften my normally gruff voice and stated, "Calm yourselves. Understand that if you were to try to harm us, you will only hurt yourselves."

"Is that a threat?" the older man snapped.

Backing off, Dean responded, "Take it easy, Bobby."

Bobby Singer - the boys' long-time friend and surrogate father after their parents' deaths. He featured in many of their stories as well.

The man mumbled, but did not press the issue further. I ignored him and turned to Gabriel, letting him take control in his new home and as our superior. Anger gone as quickly as it had appeared, Gabriel motioned broadly around the room, saying, "Welcome, boys. Feel free to make yourselves as home." He laughed to himself and elbowed Balthazar, who had not regained his good temper, in the ribs.

The three men stood stiffly. Gabriel said again, "Go on... do human things!"

"Like what?" inquired Sam, the first time I had heard him speak. His voice was calmer and less rough than his brother's.

Gabriel frowned. "Eat - you can cook, right?" (Gabriel was notorious for his sweet tooth gained centuries ago while living among the humans.) "Or sleep, you all need sleep right?" There's a TV, should be working; we don't have to bathe you, do we?"

Barely managing to keep my smile checked, I watched the horrified looks the three men gave Gabriel. Gabriel only laughed and continued. "Well, that's good. What else could a human need?"

The men stared at him blankly, obviously having no idea how to respond.

That is what I had been considering earlier. I spoke up, "They need a purpose, Gabriel. All things need a purpose beyond survival."

Gabriel rubbed a hand through his longer hair. "I'm stumped."

Surprised that the two angels who had spent the most time among humans knew them so little, I felt worried. If they did not know what to do with their humans, how was I supposed to care for mine?

Dean spoke up, his voice still sharp, "You really have no idea what to do with us? They didn't give you a Guide to Your Human Slave book, did they?"

Balthazar snapped, "Do not push us. We do not desire or require humans. Most angels were for destroying you, one and all. If the Lord had not told us the rest of His Plan in the last moments you would all be dust. And no one would remember you." He calmed himself before continuing. "You humans had your chance; now it's our time to rule the earth. If you think-"

Gabriel interrupted, "You're not slaves, not really. 'Course you'll have to live without that whole free will thing you humans are so fond of."

Sam asked, voice hesitant, "So then, you're not going to torture us?" Where had they gotten this wretched idea?

Gabriel teased, "Well..." before I jumped in, shocked.

"Of course not. Of course not. No harm will come to you. We are charged with your protection and care. Although, I do not claim to know the Lord's Purpose, I believe He wishes us to study and learn from one another."

Balthazar, Dean Winchester, and Bobby Singer all snorted at the same time. Gabriel laughed.

I frowned. "Whether or not that is our ultimate goal, your purpose will be to take care of yourselves and this home. Please tell us if there is anything you need or desire."

I turned away from the children of men and to the angels, "I wish to speak with you." We walked (agonizingly slower than simply appearing where you willed yourself to be) into the next room and lowered our voiced so they could not be heard by human ears.

Letting the overwhelmed feeling creep into my voice, I said, "I am at a loss with how to deal with this task."

Gabriel asked, "I suppose you mean beyond making sure they don't fall over and die."

"That is precisely my point. We are told to care for them, but their needs are far more complex than that."

"Just when I was thinking the idea of having a pet might be fun, "griped Balthazar.

"They are not pets." I stated firmly. "They are human beings."

"Lesser than us. Closer to monkeys," argued Balthazar.

I stared at him, "They may be less powerful and more fragile than us, but they higher than us in many ways." Almost visibly, Balthazar's temper rose. I continued quickly, "All creatures are created for a purpose. Angels are stronger and more intelligent and more holy, but humans have their uses to the Lord as well."

Gabriel added, "Cookies." We stared at him. "Chocolate, Tootsie Rolls, cake, pie, Snickers, mint chocolate chip ice cream. Seriously, that's a good enough purpose for me."

Balthazar rolled his eyes.

Gabriel wiggled his eyebrows. "Of course, they have many other skills of the physical type that are fun as well."

There was no getting through to Gabriel when he started thinking about earthly delights. Yet I hoped that they had understood my point. However, I had further concerns.

And an idea.

"I think it would be preferable to bring all of us together in one home than try to figure out what we supposed to be doing by ourselves."

"What are you asking?" questioned Gabriel. "Wanna be roommates?"

No. "Housemates. We can combine our houses into one giant house." Entirely impractical from a human perspective, but I thought we could get permission to do it. "We will have to work harder to get along, however."

Balthazar and Gabriel looked at one another. An agreement passed between them, and Balthazar said, "Sounds good." Gabriel darted over to ask the higher-ups for permission, while I explained the situation to the humans, taking them outside. Gabriel and Balthazar declared that they would do the whole thing in no time and why don't I take the humans to visit their other little human friends in the meantime? I felt uneasy, but agreed.

So I lead the three humans around the quaint suburbs, paying house calls on their friends who had been deemed righteous enough to be spared as well. I would have to remember all these humans' names. There was Ellen who was staying with Uriel, a tough, gruff woman with a tough, gruff angel. Her daughter Jo was with Anna, and I suggested that Anna might bring Jo around to visit her mother. They could come see us as often as they liked. (For some reason, that invitation slipped my mind at Uriel's.) There were several other households we visited, but I will not describe them now.

At each place, the angel and human seemed at odds. It was an abnormal situation we were placed in, and we were all feeling the strain. I admit that it did perversely lighten my load to know that the others appeared as uncomfortable and confused as I was.

As we headed back to the house, I could see it from a distance. It was a monstrosity. I hurried ahead of the humans and glared at Gabriel and Balthazar who were arguing on the roof. I chastised them, "This is hardly in keeping with the local aesthetic; fix it!"

They did. I took hardly a second for the building to shrink down into a two story house, still a bit large, but more appropriate to the neighborhood. Sam, Dean, and Bobby came up behind me. I was glad they had not tried to run away; I did not feel like chasing them down right then.

"Well, it's bigger," stated Bobby stoically.

"Wait 'til you see the inside," bragged Gabriel.

I could wait. I followed the group in. They had outdone themselves. It was more than a bit much. In fact, I was uncertain how they had managed to fit all these rooms in. I might have to fix some physics issues later.

Gabriel proudly showed us around the place. I was lost, but the humans seemed impressed. He pointed out my room. "It's a cupboard under some stairs."

I nodded. It is not like I needed any space at all.

Gabriel groaned, "You're no fun to tease, Castiel." He clapped Dean on the shoulder, who quickly shrugged him off, "That's something you'll learn about Cassy here - no sense of humor and far too literal, even for an angel."

I only followed the rest of the tour to see what I would have to fix later and ignore the tour guide. They had given themselves excessively large rooms, but had not skimped on the boys either. I was glad to see their generosity. "Here's your real room, Castiel." I looked inside. More than acceptable. I was glad to see it had a large window. I would enjoy standing and looking outside. It was also across the hall from Dean's room, which was next to Sam's, which was across from Gabriel's, next to Balthazar's, across from Bobby's. Snug.

I felt myself growing weary. I had been over three weeks since I last had time to meditate on the Lord. I confess I found Gabriel trying at times. As the humans explored their rooms, I went downstairs and looked into the yard. An absolute mess. Leave it Gabriel and Balthazar to completely forget about the outside. The yard was a disaster and all the trees had been pushed back. They were clumped too close together and looked sad. I willed them farther apart, but left the rest. That could be their first job - create a garden out of this mess.

I was soon startled out of my rest that I had not even realized I had been taking by noisy arguing and cooking coming from the small kitchen. I got up and walked over, sitting on a stool next to Balthazar. Bobby and Sam were trying to prepare some sort of meal with Dean and Gabriel getting in the way. It would have been homey if not for the wide berth and awkward glances they were all giving each other. I watched them all, feeling a vague sense of helplessness, wondering what I was going to do. We needed something to bring us all together.

Time. That was what we needed.