After more bickering, most of which consisted of Cas mumbling his complaints while Ambriel rolled her eyes with precision, Castiel fetched Hadarniel from the diner. The older angel didn't even need a word. When he spotted Castiel, he followed him outside to the car, where they settled in the backseat.
"I'm going to show you how I came to be in this body," Hadarniel said quietly. He raised two fingers to hover in front of Castiel's forehead.
"May I?" he asked.
Castiel was surprised to be asked permission. He slowly nodded his head, straining his eyes to watch as the hand descended to his forehead.
Abbadon's headquarters, just outside St. Louis, Missouri: June 20, 2013
There was darkness. Hadarniel had not known darkness in centuries. Even knocked down by Castiel in his ill-gotten godhood, Hadarniel's eyes and mind had been flooded with the light of Heaven. Such was the reward of a Gatekeeper, to bask eternally in Heaven's radiance until a call to arms was issued. No such call had been sounded, and yet now Hadarniel found himself surrounded by a wicked and polluted darkness.
He reached out with the tendrils of his un-vesseled Grace, only to withdraw at the cutting touch of the razor that surrounded him on all sides. He puzzled briefly over the nature of his imprisonment. It was not the heat and burn of holy fire, but the invisible slice and sting of a thousand blades at the fringes of his Grace. No human blade could touch him, obviously. Some spell was at work here, and Hadarniel drew tightly within himself, to observe.
The darkness writhed, the blades pressed closer, and in his agony Hardarniel's vision sharpened and he could see the contorted faces of demons, grotesque features still visible behind their human masks.
"Ah, it awakens." The voice is pain, sacrilege and blasphemy disguised in a human woman's low hum. A Knight.
"It is no matter, begin the process." A Knight of Hell. He is captured. Hadarniel cries out to his Father for deliverance, but it is in vain. The Father expects his children to find their own liberation. The knives press closer as the red words of the Knight fill his ears, and Hadarniel falls within himself, searching for escape. A Father doesn't abandon his children. Hadarniel has what he needs, he just needs to wait for revelation. The Knight's words grow sharper, and suddenly the blades retract as a heat begins to thrum within his Grace.
What the plot at hand is Hadarniel does not know, but this heat, this energy, is his. It is part of him and he will use it. As the circle of imprisonment expands Hadarniel reaches, and to his own shock it is with a human hand that he stretches out. His Grace contracts, thudding inside a racing heart as two feet thud upon the ground. Hadarniel heaves a breath, filling human lungs for the first time as he observes his new Vessel, created from nothing. Thanks be to God.
Hadarniel throws back his head and roars with his true Voice, the demon wardings harmless against the insulation of his human Vessel. The Knight screams back, and Hadarniel's vision swims, but it is enough. The floor on which he now stands shudders and cracks under the force of his power, causing the sigils to vaporize. He spreads his wings and flies.
Castiel slammed back into his own mind, panting from the exhilaration. He shut his eyes tight and focused on slowing the spinning. To be inside an angel's mind again, even for moment, was disorienting. The sensation of flight had become unfamiliar.
"So," he addressed the fallen angels, his voice rough and shaking, "If your vision is correct, I'm to believe that your grace created its own vessel?"
Hadarniel nodded, stoic. "Not a vision, brother, a memory. Abaddon was trying to perfect her spell, and in doing so charged my grace to an extent where it was able to materialize on the physical plane. Her abominable acts worked in my advantage."
Castiel attempted to wrap his mind around this revelation. "If angels could have their own vessels… then human vessels would no longer be needed."
"Checkmate, genius." Ambriel muttered from the front seat, having been silent for too long.
Fighting the urge to shoot her a venomous look, Cas continued, "I still don't see how this will help Sam."
Hadarniel start to speak again, but was cut off by Ambriel. "Sam Winchester is plagued with a dangerous mixture of demon blood and toxins from the hell trials. He requires purification. I believe that angels, in this state, are the purest beings on earth, untouched by the humans that were once their vessels."
Castiel felt the pieces click into place. A theory, proposed by Dean what seemed like years ago. There's a section that talks about an object, the best Kev can make it out it's called the "Crown of Twelve Stars", but he says it's meant for "cleansing", or like a shield against evil. Something biblical, thought to only exist in myth.
"The Crown of Twelve Stars," he whispered to himself, loud enough to be heard by angelic ears.
"Precisely," Hadarniel said, "Twelve angels in their true forms, walking the earth, will purify Sam Winchester with a simple laying of hands. This is what our Father intended for us on Earth."
"To be agents of change, not violence," Ambriel mused, staring out the window.
Castiel's heart pounded beneath his ribs. They could save Sam. He felt a swell of hope, and an almost painful longing for home. A home with piles of books and papers littering the table, simple food cooking in the kitchen, and the possibility of seeing Dean's smile again.
A small, selfish part of him pricks at the back of his mind. If you save his brother, Dean will let you come home.
After a day, Castiel stowed the journal in his glove box again, his numerous replies to Dean ignored. He imagined his journal's companion was thrown unceremoniously under Dean's bed or tucked away on a bookshelf of Sam's where he wouldn't have to see it. Maybe he even threw it away.
More images began to crop up in his head, some vivid, others dim and murky, as if he watched them underwater. Soon he realized that they were his own memories, warped and distorted from the effects of the demon blood. He saw Abaddon leaning over him, filling up another syringe while his own screams echoed off the arena walls. He felt himself being lifted from his chair and swung over a shoulder, the fabric of Dean's canvas jacket scratching at his nose. Dean setting him down gently on the hotel bed.
Ambriel assured him multiple times that her plan was sound. They would "cure" the angels, and in doing so they would cure Sam. Castiel's hand itched to write Dean about it, tell him that he could save his brother. A small part of him, a selfish part that made him quiver with shame, wanted Dean to ask him to come home. Without any reason.
Cas kept writing to Dean, despite the lack of replies.
Castiel realized that a hotel room was probably not the best place to perform the ritual needed to force an angel to manifest their own vessel. After driving aimlessly, trying to form some kind of a plan, Ambriel quietly offered herself up as a test subject. Hadarniel would say the words that would allow her to form her own vessel.
Castiel knew Ambriel was the most obvious choice. His guilt was unnecessary, but his comment about angels ransacking host bodieshung fresh in the air. He longed to explain that his comment was not directed at her, but the words didn't make it out of his mouth.
The drive out to the country was mostly silent. Ambriel stared out the window while Hadarniel sat with his hands folded in the back seat. Castiel was grateful for the distraction driving brought, though he was well adjusted enough to drive and think at the same time. His thoughts to haunt him.
Ambriel perked up as soon as they were out of the city limits and entrenched in countryside. "I'll look out for a clearing of some kind," she declared, still looking out the window. Dusk settled over the trees, framing the narrow country road, evening sunlight rich and yellow through the leaves. August started balmy and hot but the creeping cold of autumn put a chill in the nighttime air.
"There," Ambriel said, pointing out the window to a wall of trees, "About a half a mile in should be a clearing large enough."
Castiel slowed to a stop, anxious about leaving his car unattended on the side of an obscure road. "It'll be fine," Ambriel reassured him, reading his thoughts or his facial expression, he couldn't say, "We'll be back as soon as it's over."
Cas nodded, stepping out into the cool, humid air to follow Ambriel. He grabbed the plain flannel bathrobe from the backseat, purchased extra large in preparation for whatever Ambriel's vessel turned out to be. Hadarniel trailed close behind them, dark eyes darting back and forth. While the angels walked smoothly and without interruption, Castiel slipped and tripped over protruding tree branches and piles of wet leaves, swearing under his breath.
Fifteen minutes passed, and Castiel knew that he would be covered in mosquito bites come morning. But, as Ambriel promised, they emerged in a large clearing cover in tall, bristly grass a few minutes later. For whatever reason, trees had chosen to grow elsewhere, leaving a large expanse of sky above them. The setting sun colored the sky a deep purple, with tiny pinpricks of stars beginning to reveal themselves.
Hadarniel followed him into the clearing. "This is a holy place," he whispered reverently.
Castiel glanced at Ambriel. Her face tilted up towards the sky, her hands clenched in fists and her hazel eyes glassy. Her throat flexed as she swallowed. "Let's just get this over with." Her voice was quiet but assertive.
Castiel opened his mouth to protest, tell her that they would find another way. He knew how it felt to lose his vessel. Jimmy Novak's body remained, but he had no idea where his soul resided. But Ambriel wasn't losing her vessel, she was giving her back. He let his mouth close, choosing to nod silently instead.
Hadarniel stepped forward, taking the younger angel by the hand to steer her to the middle of the clearing. "I'm going to have to remove your grace from your vessel. You will be in your true form, and feel discomfort from the sensory overload. There will be pain. I must ask you to refrain from flying away in this stage, as it will be hard to find you again."
Ambriel nodded, and for the first time Castiel noticed the roundness of her face and the legs that were too long for the rest of her body. For once, Ambriel looked young.
Hadarniel turned toward Castiel. "When Ambriel leaves her vessel, you must take the girl and move her body out of the way. Most likely, she will be unconscious. Keep her safe while we perform the ritual."
"Of course," Castiel said, trying to reassure the now trembling Ambriel.
When she spoke, her voice shook. "If she wakes up, tell her not to be scared. And that I'm sorry and will always be there for her. She's sleeping right now, or else I would tell her myself… Her name is Liz. She despises the nickname Lizzie. Can you remember that?" she trailed off, meeting Castiel's eyes with a dewy burn.
He nodded. "I can."
Ambriel turned back to Hadarniel. "Ok, what else?"
Hadarniel continued. "Once you are exposed, I will begin the binding spell Abaddon attempted to use on me. There will be more pain and a feeling of enclosure. Fight against it, use your own grace against it, and your vessel will manifest."
Ambriel rolled her eyes. "Well, thank you for your vague instructions." Castiel was momentarily relieved to see a glimmer of the younger angel's old self.
Hadarniel's face remained stoic as he clapped a hand over her slim shoulder. "This is serious, Ambriel. Do not let the sensation of being your true self overtake your directive."
Ambriel nodded, her expression now somber. She turned to look at Castiel, and he met her eyes, trying to pass his strength on to her, however meager and human it may be. The corner of lips quirked up in a half smile, and he felt an instant rush of affection for his young friend.
She turned back to Hadarniel. Her voice was steady. "Just get on with it."
Castiel could only watch as Hadarniel braced a hand against Ambriel's shoulder, reaching out to her with his other hand. He pressed it against her abdomen, and with a silence that was deafening, Hadarniel's hand sank into her.
Ambriel's head snapped back as her eyes lit up white, grace pouring from her in waves. Her mouth dropped open, light forcing its way out, her throat spazzing with tension. Hadarniel held on to her, keeping her from falling, but Castiel felt a jolt to go closer, to protect and help. To push the older angel away from her because she shouldn't have to feel hurt.
He held himself back, however, and could only watch in awe as her true self took shape. Ambriel was small, a young angel in comparison to himself and Hadarniel, but no less grand. He knew that her form was much more complicated than his human mind could comprehend, stretching out miles and constantly shape-shifting, but now he saw a vaguely humanoid shape form. Arms and legs grew from a shifting torso, stretched out wide. A face took shape, with a mouth and eyes and small ears.
Dazzled by the enigmatic being before him, Castiel just barely heard Hadarniel shouting his name. He shook his head to clear it, finally noticing the crumpled body at Ambriel's feet. Shielding his eyes, he moved closer. Crouching beside the girl, he noted that her eyes were closed and her limbs limp. Feeling for her wrist, he was relieved to find a strong pulse beating against her skin. Cradling her small form in his arms, he returned to the shelter of the trees.
He held the girl close, shading her eyes from the burning light. Whether his former angelhood protected him, he didn't know, but looking at Ambriel's grace uncloaked brought him no pain. Slowly, Hadarniel began to chant in low tones. The spell sent a shiver down his spine; it spoke a slow, ancient language of binding and power, energy and darkness.
Ambriel's grace pulsed, the light dimming slightly and then surging brighter than ever. Hadarniel's voice was hard and powerful as he chanted louder. Castiel felt a vibration through the ground, pulsating through his entire body. A rushing noise filled his ears as the light brightened to a point where he had to bury his head into his own shoulder and squeeze his eyes tight against the burning heat—
Just as quickly as it began, it was gone. Silence fell over the grove as Castiel lifted his head, temporarily seeing spots, as if he had stared at the sun for too long. He stood up on shaking legs, realizing dully that he still carried Liz's small form in his arms. He carefully set her down, back against a tree, so he could turn and walk towards Ambriel.
She wasn't that much different, if he was being honest. It appeared that her grace simply took the idea of Liz's body and aged her by twenty years. Her face was slimmed down, void of baby fat, and her hair hung straight and dark blond down to her shoulders. She remained short in stature but appeared strong, her arms and legs muscled and her female body curved at sharp angles.
Blushing, he looked away, realizing that as an adult human he shouldn't gawk at anyone's naked body without their consent. He heard a snort in response.
"Honestly Castiel," said a rich female voice, "Just bring me the robe, will you?"