Poetry for fish Chapter 24: The righteous man, a supernatural fanfic

Previously: Two thousand years after Jesus died, Gabriel disappeared and celestial interventions on Earth came to an end, Anna rebels by trying to kill Azazel, and manages to escape from her own soldiers sent to kill her by ripping off her own Grace. Appointed to replace her at the head of the Garrison, Castiel is shocked by the hierarchy's contempt. Determined to restore his army's reputation, he becomes bossy and distant with his soldiers...

This chapter takes place in season 4 episode 1.

oOo

The righteous man

"Where is the righteous man?"

I tighten my grip on the demon, compressing the black smoke into its hideous appearance, trapped between my translucent fingers. But the only answer I get is a scream of agony as the rotten soul bursts into flames and dissolves in my fist.

Crushed to dust. Again.

None of the sub-demons we have encountered so far have survived long enough to answer our questions.

"Oh," Uriel chuckles, "broken already? You squeezed too hard again, Cas..."

I shake my hand in disgust to get rid of the filth and raise my head, flapping my wings to rise above the Garrison, which radiates light in the midst of this damp darkness.

We wiped off all demons we could find by questioning them one by one, with no results.

"Dean Winchester isn't here," I mutter, narrowing my eyes.

I brush my hand against the chalky walls of the now empty alcoves. The area is so dark that even our combined Graces can barely light it up. I had so much hope when we stormed into this section of Hell a few years ago. The immensity of this place, the cliff carved with endless galleries – everything suggested that it was the perfect location to hide the righteous man. It was swarming with demons and doomed souls in endless suffering, eating and drinking but never able to quench their thirst or hunger, only managing to tear their guts open. Many others would endlessly throw up their organs, convulsively vomiting up to their own bones until there was nothing left of them, only to be put back together and do it all over again. Some of them still partly human were practicing torture, while others were being torn apart on the ground by monstrous hounds. Ground now littered with the rotting corpses of those vile abominations that we slaughtered to the last.

And all of this – the stakes driven into their chest, the extracted teeth, the countless agonies - was merely a figment of their imagination, much like the happiness of souls in Heaven is. Stripped of their carnal shell, these souls only feel a phantom suffering, directly drawn from their weak minds. A suffering that is no less strikingly real for them.

That will be different for Dean Winchester. For his soul is powerful and strong-willed like every direct descendant of Cain, and mere mental torment will not be enough to break it. To break the first seal.

I know the terrible treatment demons inflict on powerful souls. For them, torture is not an illusion but very real: it cuts into the very essence of the soul, dissecting it raw, until it breaks down and rots. Like gangrene. Until all there is left of it is a demon, stripped of everything that once defined its identity.

We need to hurry. The righteous man has been subjected to the worst torments of Hell for almost ten years now, and we have to find him before he breaks. Unless he has already failed…

"What should we do now, Castiel?" asks Ephra as he inspects the area to make sure we haven't missed any demons or souls.

This part of Hell is now empty and the silence is deafening.

"We begin the siege of the next dimension."

My soldiers nod, and we fly through the suffocating darkness to the gaping holes into the reality. There are hundreds of paths ahead of us. We have already been through about a dozen of them, and I point out one that is still unexplored.

Hell is not simply a pit as I thought it would be – like Heaven, it is made of many dimensions connected by pathways that are sometimes physical, sometimes immaterial, like holes in the fabric of reality. But unlike Heaven, Hell is more flexible, less predictable. For one, time flows differently: the decade we've spent here is equivalent to a month on Earth. Now I understand how Lucifer managed to turn hundreds of thousands of infant souls in such a short period of time and raise an army for the Apocalypse. A moment on Earth feels like an eternity here.

There are hundreds of demons attempting to shut down the path in front of us, and I shout orders to launch the offensive. It is obvious that Hell is working hard to stop us from saving the righteous man. We must find him. Otherwise, Earth could be facing another Apocalypse, much worse than the last one. This time, once released, Lucifer won't stop as he did in the past. He will destroy Humanity.

That can never happen.

oOo

Eighteen years have gone by since we entered Hell, and we have won many battles and conquered dozens of dimensions, some of them as vast as a continent. And still no sign of the righteous man.

My blade makes a hissing sound as I slice through the black smoke demons are made of. Hester's silky wing is brushing against my back – in every battle he spontaneously positions himself to have my back covered.

The demon offensive is massive. Several thousand of them are surrounding and attacking us. But it doesn't matter how many there are. Demons cannot hurt, let alone kill, an Angel. They are insignificant, the real danger is not there. It is obvious that they know they are powerless, and their attacks only serve to keep us busy while others are chanting spells that make our Grace shudder and stir. They're trying to send us back to Heaven, which would definitely endanger our mission. Coming back to Hell would waste a precious time we don't have.

I have given orders to kill as a priority the demons on the sidelines chanting their evil spells. Uriel is enjoying himself, blasting away and burning to ashes hundreds of demons with each one of his mighty blows.

"Uriel! Control your strength, you need to leave some of them alive for us to interrogate!" I shout over the explosions.

On my right, Zedekiel seizes a demon and slams it to the ground.

"Where is the righteous man?"

The demon is struggling between my soldier's fingers, vomiting a black, gooey fluid.

"Up your ass!"

Zedekiel squints, tightening his grip. The demon stops cackling and chokes, then his body starts flickering before turning to ashes in seconds.

"Again? Why are these demons so weak? I wasn't even squeezing that hard!" Zedekiel exclaims.

He growls in frustration, his feathers puffed up, and rises again with a few flaps of his wings as he tries to catch another demon. But they all fall apart before we can get the information we need. I hold my blade tight and fly higher to get a better look at the battlefield. Most of the demons are dead, and my soldiers went off to pursue and interrogate those who are still alive. Like all other dimensions we've been through, this place is bathed in shadows and foul air. It is a wasteland of rocks oozing moisture, dead trees and gruesome torture machines.

Where could the righteous man be?

With a silky rustle of wings Baradiel appears at my side. Radiant with light, he gazes down silently.

"I never thought finding the righteous man would be that difficult..." I confess in a low voice.

When Azazel died by Dean Winchester's hand, it caused quite a stir in Heaven and we started to pay close attention to him. We were all surprised to hear that a Human had brought down the Fallen Cherub – and Uriel was particularly unhappy with the news. As for me, I had wrongly assumed that the King of Hell's death would put an end to demonic activities on Earth. But obviously, someone else took Azazel's place on the throne and appears to be just as eager to bring the Apocalypse to Earth. Our current difficulties is proof of this. Someone wants to stop us from saving the righteous man.

Baradiel crosses his arms, and his three fiery eyes seem to blaze even brighter.

"The demons want to set free their creator, Lucifer, and the righteous man is the key to achieve that. They must have hidden him as well as they could and will fight tooth and nail. We would do the same if we were in their place."

I take a moment to ponder this.

"Indeed, Lucifer is their creator just like God is ours… Do they love Lucifer the way we love our Father?"

Baradiel casts a contemplative glance at me.

"I often forget that you soldiers of the Garrison are so young and have been kept away for a long time, stationed on Earth to watch over the Humans… There are so many things you don't know…"

"What do you mean?"

The older Angels do have this tendency to look down on us as if they know something we don't. Something that occurred before the Garrison was created.

Now, Baradiel is my soldier, he is under my command. I have the authority to demand answers.

"Tell me, Baradiel."

"God did not create us on His own, Castiel."

My Grace freezes in my body and I slowly blink. Baradiel is watching me with his red blazing gaze.

"The Mother of All contributed in the creation of some species. Father created the Leviathans with her help, then the Archangels and the Angels. And then one day, He created the Humans without her. It was to protect His latest creations that dinosaurs were annihilated, Leviathans locked away, and the Mother of All was banished because she had objected to it. I believe that is why, ever since Azazel set her free, she has been striving to make all her monsters out from Humans. Out of revenge, I suppose. Or perhaps to bring her personal touch to these beings that God created without her, and thus make them her own."

My Grace is slowly flowing inside my body. I avert my eyes to watch the battlefield and my soldiers who are trying to interrogate the demons.

The Mother of Monsters, who sacrificed her own freedom in Sodom to protect her hybrid children, is therefore to some extent my Creator just like the Lord is. We have absolutely nothing in common with the Humans that Father created in His image, that He chose over us. Even the Mother of All chose them over us. Technically, we are closer to Leviathans than we are to Humans. Ancient creations. Failed experiments. The draft before the masterpiece. Had we been a threat to Humans, would we now be locked away in Purgatory as well? Or wiped out like the dinosaurs?

I don't know what I'm feeling. But it hurts.

oOo

For over three decades we have been in Hell, completely cut off from Heaven. The constant silence in my head makes me uneasy, and I can see that my soldiers are uncomfortable as well. Their eyes are shifty, nervous, and they appear to have a need to whisper words to each other, like a poor substitute.

Our mission is of prime importance, and yet we are only thirteen soldiers, myself included, to accomplish it. In the rush, I was unable to request additional troops, and we were even deprived of Balthazar who remained in Heaven to provide training for the possession of vessels. The fate of all Humanity rests on the Garrison. Or should I say, the fate of all Humanity rests on the righteous man. I learned from Revelations that even if he were to break, only he can stop Lucifer. I don't know what this means, but it's a fact.

No matter whether he breaks or not, Dean Winchester is our best weapon, our only hope, and we must save him from Hell. At all costs.

"Azazel shaped Hell after his own mind, into an inextricable maze. I think it is designed so by rushing into a too-obvious pathway it will only take us further away from our destination."

I turn my head towards Baradiel who perches on a large rock illuminated by the torrent of lava where drowned souls are begging us to help them. The demons have retreated behind a door carved with Enochian sigils that keep us from coming nearer. All we can do now is to stand there and wait for a demon to come out, so that we can interrogate it and compel it to open the way for us.

"What do you mean, Baradiel?"

He's staring at me, his red eyes burning like fire, blending into the glowing lava streaming all around us.

"This…"

He points at the Enochian sigils.

"… is obviously a trap. It's way too easy."

"We've searched through all of Hell," I say, squinting, "and this is the only place we could find that has been warded against Angels. The righteous man has got to be here. For what other reason would demons want to keep us out?"

"To waste our time, I guess, even though these signs won't stop us forever," says Ephra. "I would be willing to bet that we won't find anything behind that door."

But if not there, where could the righteous man be? We have searched all of the dimensions in vain. Baradiel pushes away a semi-corrupted soul that tries to cling to one claw of his foot.

"I believe that a section of Hell has been detached so we could waste our time there, in a maze. Could be a decoy. Have you noticed that we've only come across young, uninformed demons, hounds, and damned souls? Where are Lucifer's eldest demons? Where is his cage? We are indeed in Hell, but in the wrong part of it."

My Grace grows very still as I examine the Enochian sigils more closely. If what Baradiel says is correct, we have wasted thirty years fighting small fry and searching exactly where the demons wanted us to be.

"We need to find the hidden pathways..."

"Stop me if I'm getting this wrong, Cas," Uriel groans, "we're going to have to go back through all seventy-four dimensions that we've cleaned up, and find a hidden pathway that could be anywhere in the air, on the ground, or even buried? Sounds like fun..."

The Garrison failed to stop Anna from escaping. I will not allow another failure to be added to our record. We will go back to Heaven in victory, or we won't go back at all.

"We have been sent down here to rescue the righteous man, and orders are orders." I look up with fierce determination. "We won't leave Hell without him, not even if it takes us thousands of years to find him."

Zedekiel's wings slump down dejectedly, but he straightens up when I throw him a warning glance - all of his feathers ruffle up with a silky rustle.

"We will cover every dimension and proceed area by area!"

My soldiers follow my order and the search begins. Time is running out.

oOo

"We have to give him that, Azazel definitely had a sense of humor."

"And to think that this whole time, the pathway we were looking for was hidden right next to Hell's entrance..."

"It would have been easier for us to find our way around with a map!"

"Oh well, Pmox, how come we didn't think of that? What about a guided tour, some souvenirs and postcards too, hm?"

Pmox blinks at Zedekiel's snide tone, head tilted to the side. Even after all this time, the former plankton soldier still seems a bit clueless when faced with mockery. I notice Miz giving Zedekiel a disapproving glare.

"Everyone knows that. The best way to hide something is to keep it in plain sight."

I interrupt Levanael with an irritated wave of hand. We've been in Hell for forty years running around in circles. There's no time to lose.

"Let us pray that the righteous man hasn't yielded and that we're not too late...," I say sternly. "Soldiers, take position!"

"His father held out a whole century and he wasn't even the man of the prophecy," says Ephra. "So why wouldn't this one make it too?"

I nod silently, but I have a bad feeling about this.

I signal for Miz to open the pathway. He holds out one hand and delivers a powerful wave of energy to shred the invisible veil that was hiding the gateway we have been searching for so long. We rush straight into the opening, weapon in hand and driven by a sense of duty and mission.

We were expected.

Hundreds of demons grab Htmorda and drag him away from our group before we can defend him. At my command, Uriel unleashes his fury on the enemy – and the result is quite a change from what we've been used to since we entered Hell. These demons are stronger and tougher than the ones we have been fighting for the past forty years. And still, they are no match for Uriel who jubilantly tears them apart.

"Htmorda !" Pmox is yelling in the crowd.

Too late. We can see our brother being restrained by demons chanting their spell, but they're out of reach and we're powerless. A dazzling flash of light, and Htmorda vanishes into thin air. Sent all the way back to Heaven.

I can't afford losing soldiers. Not when there's so few of us. Not now that we're so close to achieving our mission.

"After me!"

My soldiers obey as I rush into the gateway cleared by Uriel that the demons seemed to be guarding. We barge into a dark and cold dimension, with no floors or walls, just endless void as far as the eye can see, crisscrossed by countless damp chains where tortured souls are hung. There is a heavy, sticky fog of red and green tones floating around, screams echoing along with waves of suffering.

More demons are coming out of nowhere and I order the Garrison to stand in a circle back to back.

"Create a diversion and interrogate the demons! Baradiel and Uriel, with me!"

My two soldiers come to my side, and we dive straight into the void, slaloming between the chains sticky with blood. Demons - about a dozen of them - are trying to corner us, so I halt and signal Baradiel to fly around them to cut off their retreat.

"Where is the righteous man?" I snarl as I stare them down. "Answer, or we will obliterate every one of you."

One of the demons giggles lewdly, licking its lips with a thick black tongue. There's something familiar about that hideous face.

"So we meet again, mh? I've been told you quite enjoyed the goat joke!"

Images and sounds instantly flood my memory, taking me back thousands of years ago. The city where naked Humans engaged in obscene behaviors. The horse mounting a woman, the goat being pursued by horny men... I remember the carefree laughter of my brethren, how hard I was laughing myself...

"Lust..." Uriel drawls, the tone of his voice halfway between contempt and amusement.

"Oh, I wish you had holes in your pretty glowing bodies, the things I could teach you... So many possibilities, with all those four arms of yours..."

I narrow my eyes. We are on a mission. The demon is merely attempting to distract us from our task.

I hold my blade more threateningly.

"Tell us where is the righteous man or you will perish."

"Haven't you heard?" answers another demon in a sugary tone. "Alastair worked so well on him, he made Dean his best student..."

"You're too laaaaaaate..." singsongs yet another one who then starts cackling loudly.

I hurl myself at that demon and grasp the black smoke he is made of, condensing it between my fingers.

"Kill the others!"

Uriel and Baradiel obey and go after the demons fleeing from all sides.

Left alone with the abomination, I press the sharp end of my blade on its neck.

"You're lying," I hiss. "The righteous man did not break."

"Why would I lie when the truth is so hilarious? It took us some time, but Dean is now our next best torturer after Alastair. A true artist. Watching him at work is pure delight. You can tell he enjoys it..."

We arrived too late.

But all is not lost yet. Our mission is to rescue the righteous man, no matter whether he's broken or not. Because right now, Dean Winchester is Humanity's last hope. The last bulwark against the Apocalypse.

A silky rustle of feathers lets me know that Baradiel and Uriel have returned.

"Lust escaped," Uriel grunts. "It slipped through our fingers like an eel."

Not sparing my soldiers a glance, I tighten my grip on the demon uttering an agonizing death rattle. I thrust the sharp end of my weapon slightly into its neck, tearing out a scream out of its throat while its decayed body begins to flicker. I have to be careful not to kill it if I want answers.

"Speak."

"Over here! He's over here!" it chokes, pointing downwards with one finger.

The agony written all over its distorted face is enough to prove it's not lying.

"Not so clever now that you're on your own, huh?" Uriel chuckles.

I glance at the direction the demon points, then shove my blade through the demon's skull in a fluid motion. There is a foul stench of sulfur rising as it dies, and I shake my hand in disgust.

We lost Virgil, Pmox and Miz! They've been sent back to Heaven! echoes Hester's clear voice in my head.

There are only nine of us left now. It's time to launch a final offensive to save the righteous man.

"Retreat and rejoin us immediately."

Yes, boss!

"We are going to attack. Get ready."

The glowing shapes of my soldiers are flying closer at high speed, pursued by swirls of thick, black smoke. This is the moment.

I spread my wings.

"Charge!"

We all dive in the direction the demon indicated. Avoiding the chains and hooks the void is filled with, we fight our way with our blades and waves of pure energy through a swarming mass of demons trying to hold us back by all means. I'm slashing them to pieces, targeting as a priority those shouting out their spells to send us back to Heaven. Uriel's violent explosions and the blasts of my soldiers' attacks briefly illuminate everything around like lightning while demons scream in agony and rage.

As I relentlessly slay demons, my eyes are searching for the righteous man.

And all of a sudden, I see it. A soul bright and radiant just like Adam and Eve's once were, but already tainted by darkness and corruption. The righteous man's soul, without a doubt. The demon was telling the truth.

Had we arrived any later, the righteous man would have turned into a demon, permanently, and everything would have been lost. We must save him no matter what it takes.

The demons are catching up to us. With my wings clasped along my body, I let myself fall head first, diving straight towards the glow that the righteous man's soul is emitting among the whirlwind of black smoke. I reach out with my hand outstretched. Everything seems to be slowing down. Flashes of lightning are increasing, demons and Angels' shouting merge into a deafening roar.

"CASTIEL!"

That was Hester's voice. But I ignore him, my eyes riveted to my mission's target. I'm almost there. Flashes of light are flooding this world of darkness - I can feel my soldiers' presence diminishing. The demons are casting them back to Heaven one by one, taking away my army.

When my hand closes on the soul, pure white light bursts from under my fingers, washing out the demonic filth that was beginning to consume it.

I bring the soul close to me to protect it, fiercely slaying with my blade the demons that try to snatch it from me. Bright and warm in my hand, it pulses like a heart, and I can feel in my Grace the sheer terror it radiates.

"Mission accomplished!" I shout at my soldiers. "We have to get out of here!"

When I turn back to the Garrison, I find that only Uriel, Rzionr Nrzfm, and Baradiel are still there. All the others have disappeared.

We slice through the foul air and Uriel throws out waves of flashing energy to clear the way. Countless clawed hands are trying to seize us, to hold us back, but there is nothing that can stop us until we reach the exit.

I am the first one to emerge into fresh air on Earth, and the soul, safe and secure, is shining in my hand and pouring a torrent of vivid memories into my Grace – intense, painful and so many for such a short lifetime. My feathers are fluttering in the wind and the sun rays finally wrap me in their warmth after forty years of darkness. And after all the silence, the flow of my brothers whispering fills my head again, along with the overwhelming memories of the very special Human in my hand. I am bursting with triumph and the joy of accomplished duty, causing my Grace to shine more brightly than ever before.

"DEAN WINCHESTER IS SAVED!" I shout to the sky with all my might, my voice overflowing all celestial channels of communication.

oOo

My soldiers cleared the area of any human presence so that I could speak to the righteous man as required by my mission. I am alone now, standing over the grave in which I have just rebuilt the body. Unlike the resurrections I accomplished after the Apocalypse, I tried my best and took my time so it could be perfect. Having the bones in the grave as a foundation made it easier for me, and I have never been so proud of a resurrection before. I even took the liberty to heal the first signs of a stomach ulcer that could have become dangerous, and to restore the liver, obviously damaged by excessive alcohol consumption. I also removed all scars from his skin - with the exception of a burn mark that I was unable to heal no matter how hard I tried.

Dean Winchester comes back to life purified, body and soul.

The sun's burning rays hit the ground as I keep my eyes riveted on the grave around which the blast of energy knocked all of the trees down. I'll probably get a complaint from Brap's division, but it doesn't matter.

My Grace is shuddering with delight and excitement. I have not spoken directly to a Human since Adam and Eve. And now that I have seen through his memories the most significant events of his life, I understand what makes the righteous man so special, worthy of saving Humanity.

The earth is stirring and two hands burst out, followed by the head - the righteous man draws a deep breath. Finally.

But just as I am about to speak to him, I receive a notification that a meeting in the Justice Hall has just been added to my schedule. Right now.

This is so frustrating. Why now?

Orders are orders. I take one last look at Dean Winchester and unfurl my wings. I fly away in a hurry to get it over with so that I can return as fast as I can. The wind is whistling between my feathers, and a few seconds later I land right in the middle of the Hall of Justice. Just like when I was promoted, Zachariah is standing behind the desk on the dais. But this time, part of the stands are packed, and my soldiers are standing next to Zachariah in silence.

"Castiel, about time!" Zachariah calls out cheerfully. "So nice to have you back! How was your little joyride in Hell?"

"Dark." I glance at the stands. All eyes are on me. "Can we reschedule this meeting? I was just about to talk to Dean Winchester about his mission."

There are about two hundred Angels sitting there, perfectly still. What are they doing here?

"Yes, I know. His world-saving mission, no less! Dean can wait until we're done here, he's not going anywhere, don't worry. We need to talk about the Apocalypse and all the fun that comes with it. Once the first seal was broken, the demons wasted no time, and while you were fooling around down there, they've already broken seven other seals."

"Was nothing done to stop them?"

"Heh! To each his own job!" He makes a dismissive hand gesture. "Your division, your Humans, your problem. But the hierarchy is aware that you are going to have a lot of extra work to do, and has therefore budgeted some exceptional credits to provide you with additional troops."

He rises up to his feet and dramatically waves to the stands.

"Castiel, here's more than enough to replenish your army! Two hundred soldiers just for you. Isn't it nice?"

The two hundred Angels rise as one and shout all together: "We await your orders, General!"

Zachariah looks at me smugly.

"Alright then… I will let you handle this, explain to Dean that he'll be needed soon – no need to tell him anything else, all in good time – and catch up on the news." He smooths down the feathers on his wing with the back of his wrist. "I will expect a full report on your trip to Hell by the end of the week, naturally. And while you're at it, I want you to make a topographic map of Hell: one at a scale of 1:1,000,000, and a series at a scale of 1:25,000 with an assembling table. All in 3D, of course. Vacation's over, kids! Speaking of which, Castiel... Your soldiers have popped back up all over Heaven, and I personally had to go and fetch Pmox who got lost in the Archives hallways. You owe me one."

He spreads his wings and pauses.

"Oh, just a friendly advice: take Balthazar with you to talk to our precious Apocalypse trigger man. Humans are so delicate, it would be a shame to damage our brand new savior, don't you think?"

Zachariah is gone in a flutter of wings and I throw a glance at Pmox who keeps his head lowered, looking sheepish and embarrassed. No matter how many times I've sent him to training sessions in the last twenty years, Pmox still is a mediocre soldier, not to mention his bad sense of direction. Miz is the only one not to show any sign of annoyance at his constant clumsiness.

The new recruits are waiting for my orders, all eyes on me. They will have to wait. I need to talk to Dean.

Time to delegate.

"Uriel, Rachel, take charge of the new ones and gather as much information as possible about the seals and where demons are heading next. I want a strategy outline ready by the time I come back. Balthazar, follow me."

oOo

The righteous man is here. All alone in the gas station evacuated by my soldiers, he is standing in front of a mirror and staring at the red, blistered handprint on his shoulder.

"I don't understand why I couldn't heal that burn."

"Because this is no ordinary burn, Cassy. It's not a physical wound, it is a mark left by your Grace on his soul, most likely when you grabbed him in Hell. The burn on his skin will heal on its own, but the mark will forever remain carved on his soul. As if you had signed your name on it. Anyway! Are we going to just stand here sniffing each other's asses while your poster boy for virtue is robbing the register and picking up porn, or are you going to talk to him?"

I throw him a warning look. I've been General of the Garrison for more than twenty years - not counting the warped time we've spent in Hell - but no matter how many times I've called him to order, Balthazar keeps calling me Cassy and displaying utter insolence towards me.

I guess it's just part of his nature.

"Come on, don't be so shy. You're acting like a schoolgirl on her first date. Just sneak a very thin stream of voice into his reality. Descendant of Cain or not, you need to be careful with the flow."

I look down again to the righteous man and speak in the lowest possible whisper, using the language of that region and time.

"Dean Winchester, my name is Castiel. God sent me to..."

"No no no, you're doing it wrong, Cassy! You're tuned to a wavelength that only dogs can hear right now! Try again a bit louder!"

Indeed, all I have managed to do is to switch on electronic devices, and the righteous man is showing signs of concern.

"Dean," I say in a louder voice. "My name is Castiel, I am an Angel of the Lord sent to-"

On ground level, the building's windows shatter - too brittle, I suppose - and Dean puts his hands over his ears. Hey, no! He won't hear me if he covers his ears. He has to listen to me, it's important.

"Dean!" I say even louder. "I need to tell you about your mission!"

"Hey, go easy on him, Cassy, you're going to break him! Not so loud!"

I throw him a glare as my voice fades off as Dean falls on the floor covered with shards of glass.

"Dean Winchester is a direct descendant of Cain. If Adam and Eve were able to hear and see me, he should be too. Why can't I reveal myself directly to him?"

"Whoa, calm down, it's not that easy. Thousands of years have passed since that time, and with each new generation, some properties have been lost while others have remained. To prevent incest, there has been some crossbreeding with ordinary Humans, which has weakened some of the powers in the blood. You should take a vessel, it would make it so much smoother for you. I've got a lovely bloodline designed just for you, I've been saving it for thousands of years, you'll see, it's..."

"I won't take a vessel. I want Dean to hear my true voice and to see my true face. Surely he's capable of that."

"Aww you want him to like you for what you truly are, am I right? I didn't take you for the mushy type, Cassy!"

"This is no laughing matter, Balthazar. I am the leader of the Garrison, and it is my responsibility to speak to the righteous man."

"Look, all you're going to do is scare the hell out of our would-be savior. I can try to teach you how to modulate your pretty voice, Cassy, but like I said, you should consider taking a vessel. Everyone is getting into it these days, you have to keep up with the latest trends!"

"I won't take a vessel. And that is final."

I take one last look at the righteous man who is trying to get a vehicle to start.

I have to handle my army and come up with a strategy to keep the seals secure. And I have a lot of overdue work. With the situation as it is for Humanity, I have many responsibilities to assume. I will talk to Dean later.

oOo

"To summarize what you just said, Balthazar, while we were gone, Sam Winchester, the righteous man's brother, started drinking demon blood. He has grown powers and is actively consorting with a demon."

"If by actively consorting you mean performing the kamasutra everywhere, then yes, Cassy, very well summarized."

"Disgusting," Uriel snorts.

"Castiel, couldn't we submit a request to the chain of command to have him eliminated?" Htmorda suggests. "With such a behavior, this Human is a walking blasphemy."

I motion to Balthazar to sit down. He has finished his verbal report on everything that has happened in our absence, and while the fate of these infected children is something that has always somewhat intrigued me, I am more interested in Sam Winchester's case.

"No," I tell Htmorda. "Sam Winchester is a descendant of Cain, and as such, he is valuable. Besides, it was to bring him back to life that Dean went to Hell. We need his collaboration to defeat Lucifer. Killing his brother would be the most effective way to make him see us as the enemy. Should the chain of command deem him dangerous, we'll be given orders. Until then, we have more important things to do. Rachel, did you come up with a strategy to protect the seals?"

Rachel stands up eagerly and starts drawing glowing symbols and plans in the air with his Grace, submitting his detailed plan. I am watching, standing still and unblinking, but my mind is away.

When I gripped Dean Winchester's soul and pulled him out of Hell, some of the strongest memories and emotions of his short life poured into my holy spirit. And above it all, beyond the pain, suffering, terror and hatred, I felt how deeply attached he is to his younger brother. I have rarely witnessed such an intense bond between siblings, and it awakens inside me some kind of longing, painful yet compelling. The righteous man would endure a thousand deaths to ensure his brother's safety and happiness. Sam Winchester, the demon-blooded boy who's heading down a dangerous path and building powers never before seen in a Human...

While Dean Winchester is truly an extraordinary Human being and the key to salvation for Humanity, his brother is just as – if not more – fascinating. I hope I will get the opportunity to meet him.

"Castiel? What do you think?"

Rachel's voice snaps me out of my thoughts. Hester and Levanael are staring at me worriedly. I haven't heard a word of what they were saying.

The new room we have been assigned - room 1050 - is large enough to hold my entire army, and is currently deafeningly silent. All eyes are on me.

"Oh don't mind him, he's just pining for his Human," Balthazar jokes.

Maybe I should send him to rehabilitation...

Hester's Grace grows dimmer, while Rachel remains unfazed and repeats patiently: "I was suggesting we divide the Garrison into two sections: one to randomly protect the seals in order to catch the demons by surprise, and another to stand ready to intervene and lead punitive expeditions to Hell. For this, it would be essential to appoint lieutenants, as it is often done in other divisions and..."

I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle.

There is a voice ringing clearly in my head. A voice that doesn't speak Enochian. A human voice - a female one, more precisely. I stiffen and slowly get up as I feel an invisible grip around my Grace, a force drawing me to Earth and that I try to push back, my four hands clutching the desk.

Am I being summoned?

I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle.

"Castiel? What's going on?"

Hester's face, as though chiseled out of ice, appears right in front of me, his pale grey eyes filled with concern. I can feel his hand gently touching my shoulder.

"An invocation... Some psychic is trying to drag me down to Earth..."

I close my eyes, and in one unpleasant flash, I catch a glimpse through thick fog of human figures holding hands, sitting around a round table. A woman, a man, and... the righteous man and his demon-blooded brother.

I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle.

Oh no.

The ritual goes on, wrapping itself more tightly around my Grace. If the invocation succeeds, I will appear before them in my true form, and they will all be seriously injured and blinded by my appearance. I nervously flick Hester's hand off my shoulder with my wing.

"So now hairless monkeys start whistling for us like we're their dogs?" Uriel snarls. "Who do they think they are? You should teach them a lesson, Castiel."

"Sam and Dean Winchester are with her," I say louder.

"The horny monkey who drinks demon blood? Even better!"

I invoke, conjure, and command…

I ignore Uriel and speak to the medium in a threatening, low voice, whispering not to hurt her. I have to make her stop.

"My name is Castiel. Cease your invocation immediately or you will regret it."

Castiel? No. Sorry, Castiel, I don't scare easy.

"This is getting ridiculous," Htmorda says grumpily. "Humans interrupting a meeting in Heaven... Well, we've seen it all!"

"I don't know whether to be grateful or outraged," Zedekiel muses. "At least I'm not so bored anymore."