Hey! Short chapter, sorry. Might be taking an extra week or so off after the next update, busy right now! Still invested in this fic, don't worry.
Certainly more invested in this fic than I am with the show. Honestly, they could announce tomorrow that it's cancelled and I think I'd feel relieved.
Anyway, regardless, it's Christmas and that's a cheerful time! Whether you celebrate the day or not, this is a good time of year to treasure what you have and feel compassion for those less fortunate. I hope that everyone's keeping Aleppo in their hearts and minds, but I also hope that you're all smiling about something! There's a lot to smile about in this world, when you make the effort to look properly. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, and a Happy New Year! xxx

It takes me several seconds to really understand what's happening as the person knocking at my door repeats themselves. Inhaling wetly, I blink away the tears as quickly as they came, wincing as I struggle to my feet. Still holding my hand to the wound in my side that's emitting a concerning amount of blood, I hobble to the door, breathing harshly and sniffing a little. I feel like a wreck. I'm pulling my phone out even as I reach the door, fumbling one-handed to open the new text. It's from Dean.

Ah shit I know uve probably got it all under control but could u just send a quick text confirming ur alive? Bored as fuck and worrying a bit here

I'm still staring down at my phone as I let go of my side to pull the door open, smearing fresh blood all over the handle. I'm feeling light-headed so it takes me a moment to look up and focus on the angel standing outside. She's pretty in a serious sort of way, peering at me with intense blue eyes overshadowed by a thick, dark brown fringe. I think a little blearily that she sort of reminds me of my own reflection.

"Hello," I say dumbly, still holding my phone, pressing my other hand back to my wound. She looks down at my bloodied side and raises her eyebrows.

"Well, I can see why you were praying."

I just gaze at her and she eyes me suspiciously for a moment before sighing and stepping forward into my space. I tense up belatedly and she ignores it, hovering her hand just above mine over my gore-soaked shirt. I can half-see the glow in my peripheral vision as she heals me but she stares thoughtfully into my eyes the entire time and I can't quite look away. The pain goes, the horribly stretched, torn feeling of the damaged skin fades away, even the blood disappears and my light-headedness does too. I blink at the angel in surprised gratitude. She continues to survey me from inches away, looking reluctantly fascinated.

"Thank you," I say haltingly. She nods almost absently, still staring into my eyes. I almost feel like I'm getting in the way of whatever she's looking for, so I fall silent and look right back. After too many seconds, she purses her lips and steps back again, folding her arms.

"Castiel," she states. I jump, immediately wary. "You are Castiel, aren't you?"

I open my mouth to lie but instead I nod. Furious with myself, I snap my mouth back closed, frowning. She continues with a grimace.

"I see. Well, I hate to say this, but I don't want to kill you. I thought I might get here and feel all this righteous fury but… I suppose I was never very good at that. Can I come in?"

I swallow. "Who are you?"

She cocks her head at me before answering. "My name is Hannah."

I nod slowly as though I've heard of her. I haven't. I step aside to let her in, reasoning with myself that if this Hannah wanted me dead she had every opportunity to smite me instead of healing me.

Hannah walks in with an air of curiosity, peering about the room. She halts, nodding at the burned out sigil by the bathroom door. "I see I'm not the first to have answered your prayer."

"I'm afraid not," I say sourly, shutting the door. I hesitate before crossing past her to get to the bathroom, but she doesn't move. Once I have the bathroom door open I watch Hannah over my shoulder in the mirror. As before, she stares back as though something about me deeply interests her. It makes me uneasy, but somehow I already feel that I trust her. I wash my blood from my hands quickly before grabbing my phone again and composing a reply to Dean.

I'm OK. Discovered that there are definitely angels out there who are not friendly to me, to say the least. Talking to a less hostile angel now. Have more to tell you but will update later xxx

Tucking my phone back into my pocket, I look back up to see that Hannah is frowning at the floor. I wonder what exactly troubles her. It could be anything about this situation, really. She clearly knows who I am and understands, correctly, that she should loathe me. Yet something is staying her hand, and unless I'm indulging in some serious wishful thinking, she is considering aiding me. I feel exhausted, but relieved that this angel seems to at least want to talk rather than destroy me. I step back into the bedroom and push a hand awkwardly through my hair.

"So, Hannah-" I begin hesitantly. She interrupts quickly.

"Look, Castiel, a lot of us are extremely angry at you, but a lot of us also understand that you were fooled by Metatron. He's the one who's really to blame. So whilst I am doubtful of you, I am not here to harm you. I answered your prayer out of curiosity more than anything, but also because once not so long ago, you were Heaven's only hope. At least, it seemed that way for those of us who opposed Raphael. With the way things are, it's hard to ignore a prayer from someone who used to be the hero of Heaven."

I wince at the slight bitterness in her tone, but I realise to my own surprise that I actually like Hannah. It's been some time since I've met one of my kin - ex-kin - whom I've genuinely liked. My phone buzzes again in my pocket but I ignore it for now, watching Hannah closely. She eyes me unhappily before sighing and gesturing at the now-spotless tear in my shirt where the angel blade ripped through it into my flesh.

"Who attacked you?"

I frown, touching my healed side. "His name was Raziel. I don't… I wouldn't have thought that he would be an enemy of mine, even now. He fought for me in the war. He was under Bartholomew-"

"Exactly," Hannah interrupts, as though I'm missing a point. I blink at her and she elaborates a little impatiently. "Bartholomew wants you dead. You didn't know that? He hasn't been subtle about it, he's got angels all over the country looking for you."

I step back and lean back heavily against the counter again, feeling sick. "Bartholomew?"

Hannah nods slowly, a look of distaste on her serious face. "He wants power and he seems to think that running a hate campaign is how to get it. So he's made you into a scapegoat for all of Heaven's problems, because you're an easier target than Metatron I guess, and he's going to kill you and make himself into the hero who avenged Heaven. At least, that's what those of us who oppose him can make out from his propaganda. It's all very human. I barely recognise some of my own species any more."

I give a hollow laugh, staring at the floor. "Yeah. I barely am my own species any more. In fact, I'm not. I make a terrible human, though. I'm not sure what that makes me."

"Does it matter?" Hannah says sharply. I look up at her, startled. She looks frustrated, annoyed, saddened… I realise, with a jolt, that she looks disappointed.

"It matters to me…" I say somewhat weakly. Hannah purses her lips, glancing away. She pauses before she next speaks, her voice quiet but raising as she talks.

"Castiel, you used to serve Heaven. Not like the rest of us did, mindlessly following the orders of the angels at the top of the hierarchy. No, you rebelled and turned it all upside down and betrayed your own biology… yet you still served Heaven, you served all of us. You were a true revolutionary. For millennia we've been drones, no will, no wonder, no love or pride for who we are and what our home means to us. Now you've shown us those things. What does that make you? I think it makes you a leader."

I feel a little dazed as she finishes speaking, eyes flashing with conviction. I was vaguely aware that whilst many angels have despised me since I rebelled, many others hold me up as some kind of hero. It's flattering, but inaccurate. The sad truth is that I really did do it all for Dean. I didn't just fall in love with him, I reshaped my entire purpose and existence around him. Only afterwards did I scramble together some sense of freedom and defiance, only once I'd thrown Heaven aside for Dean did I look back and realise that I could still fight for it and be of some use to my brethren. I was trying to fix my mistakes more than I was crusading for a cause I deeply believed it.

But Hannah is looking at me with shining blue eyes and a sense of hope in a bleak new world. How can I deny her that? I shift uncomfortably, clearing my throat.

"Hannah," I begin carefully, "I think it's amazing that you and others see me that way. And you're right; you're not just drones, you're not just… hammers, tools to be used. I was shown that, and my life has been a mess ever since, but I don't regret it. But Hannah… this is where that path has led me. I'm not even an angel any more. I'm only a human, I can't help you. I'm the one who needs your help."

Hannah is shaking her head, jaw set stubbornly. "You can get your grace back."

I freeze, heart thumping. Because I haven't been letting myself think about that possibility. I don't even know if it's what I want. I don't know if it's what Dean wants, which feels like the more important question, although it shouldn't be. I clear my throat again, rougher.

"Maybe. Regardless, I have no intention of letting Metatron escape punishment, whether he still has my grace or not. But right now I cannot focus on that. I am just a human and like I keep saying: it's your help that I need."

I trust Hannah, I realise suddenly. I trust her with Sam, with my family. She looks unhappy, brow furrowed beneath her bangs, but after a pause she nods.

"What can I do?"

I sag with relief and then stand up straight, stepping towards her. "Thank you. What I need you to do will sound strange, but hopefully it won't take a great deal more time now. I have a human friend who was gravely hurt, and in order to-"

"Wait," she hisses, holding a hand up to halt me. I fall silent, tensing. Hannah flicks her gaze towards the door, eyes narrowed. I'm about to ask what it is when she looks back up at me, mouth set and grim.

"Reaper," she whispers, barely audible. "Bartholomew's not going to stop hunting you, Castiel."

I swallow. Rogue reapers are definitely something to be feared. But they are also basically as susceptible to banishing sigils as any other angel. Unfortunately, so is Hannah. I grimace and touch her arm then nod towards the remaining sigil, raising my hand to mime pressing it. She hesitates and then nods.

"Damage it first, so that I'm not sent far" she whispers, "and then get out of here. I'll find you quicker than anyone else now that I'm familiar with your soul. Others will be chasing you too though. Be alert."

I nod shortly and then stride over to the sigil. A knock comes at the door. With a calmness I don't feel, I lick my thumb and then scrub a break in the main circle, damaging the power of the sigil. Hopefully it's not rendered powerless.

"Hello?" comes a smooth female voice from behind the door. I take a deep breath and pull the door open, staying behind it with my hand hovering over the sigil. My eyes meet Hannah's as the reaper steps into the room.

"Who are y-"

I slam my hand down onto the sigil and watch it flare weakly but angrily under my palm, hear the cut-off shout as the reaper and Hannah are sent away. The light fades and I'm left alone, heart hammering.

It barely takes me a few seconds to leap into action, gathering my belongings and rushing out to the Impala with them, thankful that I'll be undetectable to angels as long as I'm inside it. Jumping in, I start the engine and roar out of the parking lot, picking a direction at random.

I just hope that Hannah wasn't sent too far.