Author's note: I know it's been a while since I last updated, thank you for your patience and support! I found myself a boyfriend, so let's say I've been quite distracted lately hehe. But don't worry, I have no intention to abandon this story and its translation!

Previously: A few decades after his nomination as Garrison Commander, Castiel goes to Hell to save the righteous man's soul, which is the first seal that demons must break in order to free Lucifer and start the Apocalypse. After forty years of searching, Dean is rescued, but too late, and only he can now stop Lucifer. After trying in vain to talk to him, Castiel decides to take a vessel: Jimmy Novak. But when he finally speaks to Dean, Zedekiel informs him that Ephra is dead...

oOo

Broken seals

The wrinkled sand dunes seem blurred under the layer of rippling hot air. The sun is hitting the ground hard, reflected in the four-armed, Angel-shaped surface of solidified glass covering the sand. On each side, black ashes mingle with the clear sand, poor remnants of two majestic wings that the wind is already starting to scatter.

"How did it happen?"

Standing on Zedekiel's shoulder that seems so vast through my vessel's eyes, I look down upon this tragic sight. That's all that remains of our brother, faithful and loyal Ephra. Zedekiel's wings are rustling nervously in his back while his Grace is forming swirls under my brand new human feet.

"Ephra wasn't returning my calls, so I came to make sure he wasn't in trouble... this is how I found him, next to the broken seal..."

My vessel's coat is flapping in the wind and the clothes are flattened against my borrowed body. I squint my eyes and realize that the Egyptian tomb Ephra was guarding has indeed been profaned. Pharaoh's tomb, which contained his damned soul. The 429th seal, one of the easiest to break, which I personally assigned to Ephra, one of my best soldiers, to protect.

"It has to be demons..." Zedekiel says hesitantly.

I raise my head up to him and we share a look. These three blue orbs, wide and liquid like a lake, display my brother's anxiety. Getting used to my new height is not as difficult as I thought it would be – but possessing Jimmy makes me realize how impressive we must have looked to Adam, Eve and Cain in the past. I have always known Zedekiel as a dedicated but sloppy, distracted and lazy soldier – not to mention that he is always late – but he would pass for human eyes as a fearsome entity.

"That's impossible," I say. "Demons can't kill Angels."

My voice rumbles in my vessel's flesh, in my throat and rib cage - so different from my real voice, hoarse, and so human - but I try not to pay attention to it.

Zedekiel blinks, looking back down at the wind scattering the ashes.

"Maybe they found a way? The seal is broken, Castiel. It has to be them."

I can feel my eyebrows furrowing as I unfold my ethereal wings behind my back, and with just a beat, I'm now standing on the glass surface. On the ground and at human scale, the thick glass stretches as far as the eye can see, radiating heat and reflecting the sun's brightness. If only this burned Grace could tell me what happened...

"What are the orders, Castiel?"

I look up at Zedekiel, who's as bright as the sun.

"I will arrange a crisis meeting. In the meantime, go back to your station."

Zedekiel fervently nods, spreading his white wings and flying away at once, leaving me with only the endless sky above me. I turn around and walk in the direction of Ephra's head, my footsteps clattering on the glass that mirrors my outward appearance.

This is a failure. A horrible, crushing failure.

When I assumed Anna's position, I promised myself that never again would the Garrison suffer the loss of a soldier, not under my leadership. And now Ephra is dead, and another seal broken. That's one more step toward defeat. Toward the Apocalypse, the extinction of Humanity, the reign of demons on Earth.

If I fail to explain in my report exactly how Ephra died, I will lose all the credibility and respect that Dean Winchester's half rescue earned to my Garrison and my reputation. Since I was promoted, the Garrison went through nothing but setbacks. First Anna slipped through our fingers, then the first seal broke because we were too late in Hell, dozens of seals are already broken... and now an Angel's unexplained death. How is this even possible?

As I reach where Ephra's head must have been, I crouch down to brush against the reflecting surface with my fingers made of flesh. The glass is scalding hot and smooth. Unable to answer the questions assailing me.

For a brief moment, I understand what Anna meant, almost two thousand years earlier, when she spoke to me as we watched Camael's lifeless body. Ephra is gone, but all I can feel is some distant, detached sadness. As a General, my brother's death represents a hindrance to my Mission more than a tragedy. The imminent Apocalypse, everything that's expected of my position and getting the Garrison to be accepted in Heaven is far more important to me than his death in itself.

Anna was right. We don't feel anything.

Ephra was killed in action, I quietly announce to the entire Garrison.

Then, I promptly reserve the room that has been assigned to us since Zachariah gave me the new recruits.

The entire Garrison is summoned for a crisis meeting, room 1050. Immediately.

I rise up and gaze one last time upon my brother's glassy outline.

"Farewell," I whisper before exploding the reflecting surface with a flick of my hand. Glass shards shoot and slice into the air, sending glowing fragments of light everywhere, but I'm long gone before they fall back to the ground.

oOo

Elbows on the table and chin resting on my crossed fingers, I get a good look at my mismatched army. They're all here, except for the soldier assigned to watch over Jimmy Novak's family, whose orders are never to leave his post.

"I won't be long," I say sternly. " With the war going on, we can't afford to stop guarding the seals for more than a few minutes."

All eyes are set on me, and I squint, unsettled by the room's space, which appears warped and moving, as if alive. I'm not the only one who's taken a vessel. More than two dozen of my soldiers are now equipped, and our size differs so much from our brothers still in their true form, that it seems to have altered reality.

I would have thought having vessels in Heaven wouldn't be so different than on Earth. But I was wrong. The laws of physics ruling time and space on Earth do not apply to Heaven. Here, space adjusts itself to our size: the table is at my human scale, and my seat too has shrunk to fit. But for my giant soldiers, the oval table and everything around it remains sized to fit their dimensions. Never before have I seen space being so flexible, stretching, expanding and shrinking within the same place - somehow it reminds me of my isolation, where time had been so fluid and fluctuating. A Human would probably lose his mind when seeing such a sight that his brain could not even comprehend.

Good thing that this minor technical issue will no longer apply when everyone in Heaven will get their own vessel. Standardization will resolve this.

"As you know, one of our soldiers was killed in action."

None of the new recruits flinch but Zedekiel averts his gaze, and some of my former fellow soldiers are displaying signs of uneasiness.

"This is probably the work of demons. We need to find out how they did it and eliminate the threat. It is one more hindrance to the mission."

My wings are tightening behind my back as I hold back my anger and frustration. Had the hierarchy provided us with more resources, we wouldn't be in this mess today.

I'm expected to go to battle against all demons from Hell and stop the Apocalypse with one joke of an army. There are more than six hundred seals, and even if we're protecting the weakest as a priority, demons are winning ground every day. Practically by the hour.

How am I supposed to win in these conditions?

It is written that the one who breaks the first seal is the only one who can defeat Lucifer. Fate cannot be stopped. Is that why the higher command is letting us lose so blatantly?

"We will keep protecting the weakest seals as a priority, but with an element of unpredictability to hold the enemy at bay. Each one of you will be responsible for three or four seals, and will be constantly shifting from one to another."

The look in my soldiers' eyes hardens, their wings are stirring, as if preparing to fly off at my command.

"I want you to call the Garrison for backup in case of an attack you can't handle on your own. In the meantime, we need to find out exactly how demons could have killed Ephra. Baradiel, you will research all the possible ways to kill Angels that demons could possibly achieve. Uriel and Rzionr Nrzfm, you will be capturing demons and we will question them together. Htmorda, you will stay close to Dean Winchester and keep me informed on his activities."

"Is it really necessary to waste a soldier to babysit, Castiel? You already deprived the Garrison of an Angel to idly watch over your vessel's family..."

I look over and meet Hester's eyes. This is a double look, for he - or should I say she - is inside a blonde-haired and blue-eyed female vessel who's openly glaring at me. Her true face appears layered and translucent over the flesh one, her three grey eyes gleaming fiercely.

"I don't want anything to happen to Dean," I tell her. "Should we lose the war, he will be Humanity's last hope."

"The righteous man can manage on his own! There's much more important things to worry about right now! You're supposed to be a strategist, Castiel!"

"If he dies..."

"If he dies, then what? We'll just resurrect him!"

"Are you questioning authority, Hester?"

Hester, who had begun to stand up in her display of insolence, sit back down with her wings folded and fists clenched.

The anger that has been growing inside me since Anna fled sets my Grace ablaze. While I have to put up with constant criticism from my superiors, I will not allow any kind of disrespect from my subordinates.

"Of course not," she finally answers stiffly.

"Don't forget who I am," I say coldly. "I represent the Will of God and you owe me obedience and respect. Orders are orders, and they are not to be discussed."

She lowers her head, her wings dropping as a sign of submission. Silence falls in the warped room as I assign seals to my soldiers.

"Last thing: you must all invest a vessel within the next two days. Balthazar, you will ensure it. Dismissed!"

All my soldiers fly out in a flurry of flapping wings, and soon the place is empty except for Balthazar and myself. The space immediately adjusts to our small size, since Balthazar also owns a vessel now.

"Why are you still here, Balthazar?"

The vessel's hair is ashy blond, he has a sparse beard and blue eyes, and gives me a playful smile as he approaches me. He gently tugs at my tie, smoothing it between his fingers.

"You might want to fix this, Cassy, it makes you look kind of messy. Same with the holes in the clothes and all the blood. Vessels need to be cleaned up and kept in good condition. Especially one this pretty."

He winks at me and disappears without another word. I frown and look down at my borrowed body as I pull apart the coat's layers. With everything that happened, I had completely forgotten about the bullet holes and stab wound.

I concentrate, and the next moment the clothes are spotless, the skin is smooth and undamaged, and the heart starts beating in my chest again.

There's still the matter of the tie Jimmy loosened before I took possession of him... How do Humans do it again? These useless strips of cloth are fairly new, and I've never really given them much thought. I untie it, and I try to make the knot as well as I can.

There. That will do just fine.

oOo

"Come in!"

Zachariah's voice sounds different than usual. Human.

I carefully open his office door and frown as I face Zachariah in human form, sitting at his spotless desk. Behind his true face - immaterial, like a haze of light - there is a balding, sneering Human.

"These things smell worse than I expected. It's disgusting. No matter how hard I tried to clean it, I couldn't get rid of the lingering stench of organic life. First chance I get, I'm gonna dump this stinking pile of meat. But orders are orders, right?"

"Right," I nod, because what else am I supposed to say?

Zachariah leans forward, elbows on his desk, and gives me a long, hard stare.

"Be honest with me, Castiel. What do you think of my vessel? Balthazar told me it was the best he had, but I can't trust anything that comes out of his lying mouth."

"I..."

I can feel my forehead furrowing and my eyebrows frowning as I take a closer look at Zachariah's vessel. Except for the fact that he has no hair and doesn't look exactly young, I don't know what to think about it.

"Am I beautiful?" he insists, pointing at his features with a hand gesture.

"I don't know. I've never really been able to tell a beautiful Human from an ugly one. My apologies."

Zachariah pinches his nose bridge, sighing in frustration.

"Me neither."

"Does it matter? A vessel's aesthetic appearance is irrelevant."

Zachariah leans back on his seat and crosses his hands on his stomach with a shrug.

"Nah. It's just that I've got some bets going with the Council members against the budget administration staff, and... Anyway. Why did you want to see me, Castiel?"

Bets? The Council is indulging in trivialities during a time of crisis, when my soldiers are outnumbered and fighting on several fronts? This is not just a war against demons, the Apocalypse is at stake!

"I am having difficulties with my mission. Demons are attacking multiple seals simultaneously. My soldiers are able to eliminate them most of the time, but there are too few of us to protect all of the seals at once. Especially since the demons seem to have found a way to kill us."

Zachariah raises his eyebrows, looking mildly bored.

"So what? Mission reports and statements of complications are to be sent to the administration, not to me."

I tighten my ethereal wings behind my back.

"I need more soldiers to stop the Apocalypse, Zachariah. I would need an army of at least a thousand soldiers to be efficient."

He gets up and walks around his desk to face me, hands clasped behind his back.

"I completely understand, and our superiors do realize how challenging your mission is, but I'm sure you'll do perfectly fine."

"But..."

"I really wish I could help, believe me. Budget and workforce have been assigned for the century. We made a big exception to the procedure already by providing you with two hundred of our best soldiers, and I'm still wading through all the paperwork it generated. There's only so much we can do for you. Don't be greedy, Castiel."

So this is it? Won't the high command do anything to help me? Am I expected to basically stop the Apocalypse all by myself?

Zachariah grins at me and gives me a patronizing pat on the shoulder.

"I know it isn't easy. A piece of advice: try to improve your results. If you don't, the Garrison will go down in history as the one who brought on the Apocalypse!"

I glance down on the hand touching my shoulder, trying very hard not to shove it away.

Requesting immediate backup! My seal is being attacked by a thousand demons!

That was Rachel's voice. With a single flap of wings, I leave the white desk behind and land on an aerial battlefield high above the ocean. Rachel is guarding a seal hidden in an undersea cavern bearing the Mother of All's markings. We discovered a few centuries ago that to survive the Flood, Eve sought shelter there and created bloodthirsty aquatic monsters that will be set free should the seal be broken.

I can feel my blade, made of Grace hardening in my vein, piercing my right forearm's skin and slipping out. It falls from my sleeve directly into my hand. All around me, there are dozens of my soldiers, some with vessels and some without.

Only now, in the midst of the action, do I realize how valuable an advantage it is to own a vessel in a battle. Just like Balthazar once said, a single touch is enough to slay the most powerful demons, but I also can unleash such extraordinary power with every move I make, almost effortlessly. Additionally, a flap of my wings is all it takes for me to travel at the speed of light, through air or underwater alike. I command my soldiers to regroup and surround the enemy in one single spot.

Now! I order without using my mouth.

My soldiers - about a hundred of them - all together blast a wave of pure energy right into this cluster of thick, black smoke. The demons are screaming and trying to escape, but no one can get past the wide circle of Angels surrounding them from all sides.

After a few seconds, we silently lower our arms. I descend back to the water darkened by the rain of ashes falling down.

The enemy is defeated.

I am standing on the water, ripples gently lapping against my feet without getting them wet. With a flutter of her wings, Rachel lands next to me in a brand new vessel - a pale blonde woman pinching her lips.

"The seal is secured," she proudly announces.

This is a victory. There is a smile grazing my lips, but I hold my satisfaction deep inside. Winning a battle and winning the war are two very different things.

"Go back to your positions," I say.

Within seconds, I find myself alone with Rachel on the ocean.

"You are a great General, Castiel. We will stop the Apocalypse."

Pride sends a pleasant thrill through my Grace as I lift my chin and glance at Rachel out of the corner of my eye. And for a moment, I allow myself to be smug.

"Thank you, Rachel."

Right up to the skyline, the ocean is reflecting clouds and clear blue as the sulfur is sinking into the deep. Wind blows through my hair and snaps my coat open.

Soldiers, what is your current situation? I ask my soldiers through the celestial wavelengths.

The voice of the soldier guarding Jimmy's family is the first to inform me that nothing is happening, followed by Htmorda's.

Dean, Sam and Bobby are talking about you and doing some research in books. Otherwise, nothing too exciting.

Unless Dean is in imminent mortal danger, I don't care what he's doing, I answer.

I have more than enough going on right now. All I need is to make sure the righteous man remains unharmed.

My soldiers' reports are flowing into my head, clear and to the point. Everyone answered the call except three. Three Angels among my new recruits did not respond.

It's like everything is slowing down, the sounds seem to be muffled when I fly to the place they were guarding and find them just like Ephra was. Each one was found dead alone, next to the broken seal they were assigned to protect.

Only when I report the details of their deaths to the Garrison and to the chain of command do I realize that these three soldiers died before I had a chance to learn their names.

oOo

I grab a demon's human face, slamming it hard against the wall. The energy I push into the body purifies and obliterates all evil, with pure white light shining from the eyes and mouth. The empty body drops to the ground with a dull, muffled sound, all fried from the inside. I whirl around, my coat flying open, and I see my soldiers wiping out and trapping the last enemies still alive. Uriel is holding two of them who are struggling, their black eyes terrified, unable to break free. My brother's dark ebony skin is stained with blood as he grins.

"I'm taking them in for interrogation, Castiel."

I nod, and Uriel disappears in a rustle of feathers. Now every soldier in my Garrison has their own vessel, which makes us far more powerful in battle.

This is another victory - demons have been wiped out, Pmox's seal is safe, and this time none of my soldiers died.

One victory for how many defeats? No matter how many battles we win, demons are nearing their goal. While we fight to defend a seal, they move swiftly to attack our abandoned positions. We can't be everywhere simultaneously, and we're not omniscient. Twenty-three seals have now been broken, and the Garrison lost four soldiers. And it's only been two days since we raised the righteous man from Hell. Two days of raging war, of unending battles.

It's like having to fight against the rising tide.

"Thank you, Miz…" says Pmox, grabbing the hand Miz is holding out for him to get up from the ground.

The slightest noise echoes through the abandoned factory as I walk towards my soldiers, striding over the corpses littering the ground.

"You could have handled this on your own, Pmox," I reprimand him. "There weren't that many of them."

Pmox's vessel is Asian which is unusual, and not exactly young - about five decades old, I guess, and quite chubby. He dusts off his clothes, avoiding my gaze and chewing his lower lip.

"I know, Castiel, but... I... I panicked."

He looks up at me, dark circles under his vessel's fearful eyes.

"You are a warrior of the Lord, Pmox. You should behave like one."

"Sorry."

His wings clasp behind his back and he looks down dejectedly

"I know I'm not a good soldier. Contrary to what everyone may think of me, I am not so stupid as to be unaware that my former division got rid of me for this reason."

Miz stretches out one ethereal and shadowy wing to wrap around Pmox whose eyes are brimming with tears. I look up at Miz's impassive face. Like Uriel's vessel, Miz's skin is dark, but his body is younger, taller and slender. He is staring at me intently, his face blank, and he opens his mouth.

"Pmox is not qualified to guard seals alone. He is putting himself and the Mission in jeopardy. I volunteer to take him under my charge."

"This is actually not a bad idea," Levanael chimes in. "Miz and Pmox have always proved to be more efficient together."

Levanael, appearing as a blonde woman in a white dress, smiles at me softly, surely intending to appease me.

I heave a sigh as my three soldiers are expecting me to sort this out.

Castiel! I don't mean to alarm you, but your Human is getting attacked. He's been involved with a broken seal, the one about the witnesses...

Htmorda's neutral voice is getting annoying. I can't hear myself think inside my own head.

Htmorda, I'm busy here! I snap back at him. Don't interrupt me unless he's dying. Or better yet, don't contact me unless he's already lying dead. I'll just resurrect him.

Alright, then. Besides, now that I think about it, he's actually managing not so badly for a Human!

I pinch my lips and take a look at Levanael, Pmox and Miz.

"Fine. I'll allow a pairing, as an exception."

Pmox and Levanael both thank me and I quickly leave. I have a lot of work to do. Being a General in wartime is harder than I expected.

The factory fades into endless wooden shelves filled with books. I can't see where they end because of the golden mist floating all around. I hadn't set foot in the library since Heaven was created. Nothing has changed here.

I take a few steps forward and run my fingers over the book spines lined up as far as I can see. The leather and velvet bindings engraved with gold Enochian markings are soft and firm, they inspire worship. There are so many secrets inside. Secrets that taught Azazel the banishing seal and how to bring back the Mother and free Lucifer.

My finger pauses on a book whose title refers to various levels of concealment seals on Humans. With the meat of my thumb, I trace down the symbols and they seem to be glowing at my touch. I remember Gabriel telling me two thousand years ago that he gave Camael the idea of the seal to save Cain. Did he learn how to proceed from that very book? Or did the Archangel teach him directly?

"Castiel. Can I help you with something?"

I instantly remove my hand from the book. I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I didn't notice one of the Sisters of Destiny standing right behind me. I turn around to face a blond female vessel staring coldly at me over glasses perched on her nose.

"Atropos," I say with an acknowledging nod.

She slowly blinks, unsmiling. The memo stating that all Angels must take possession of a vessel was recently sent out, but I had no idea that it also applied to the Sisters of Destiny. Technically, they are not Angels.

I look at Atropos intently. Just like us, her wings and her face, incorporeal, are layered over her borrowed body. But instead of a glowing mist, her true appearance overflows as a shimmering bluish shadow. On her true face, seven silvery eyes are staring at me with barely concealed suspicion.

"I'm looking for Baradiel. I sent him up here to study how a demon could possibly slay an Angel."

"You are in the wrong section." She pinches her lips. "This is the section about forbidden seals, your rank doesn't authorize you to be here. Follow me."

She turns on her heels, flipping her long blonde hair behind her back, and I follow her between the shelves. Silence wraps around us like oil, and strangely enough, our feet make no sound at all when they hit the ground. The endless bookshelves keep extending before my eyes until she leads me into an open space where there are tables and chairs arranged in rows, and a few dozen Angels inside their vessels reading books with the utmost studious silence.

Atropos nods severely at me and leaves me there to head for a dais where she takes her place. Then she flips through a book, peering inquisitively at the readers.

One of them waves at me discretely, and I recognize Baradiel inside his flesh suit, a young man with dark and wistful eyes. I walk up to the lean, pale vessel whose long chestnut hair is gathered in a bun, and sit down next to him.

"What did you find out, Baradiel?"

"Silence in the library!" Atropos's voice immediately snaps like a whip.

I squint and try again, this time speaking to my soldier directly into his head.

Have you figured out how demons are killing Angels?

Baradiel looks down at his book and turns the pages to show me his research.

There are very few ways to kill us. Only Leviathans, God, Death, the Sisters of Destiny and Angels are capable of it. There are some spells that can destroy us as well, but only if we pronounce them ourselves – in other words, suicide.

I can't help frowning.

That's impossible. Four Angels have already been killed by demons. You must have missed something.

Baradiel's gaze is so profound that it seems to pierce through my Grace, straight into my holy spirit.

I have not, Castiel. At least, I didn't miss anything that's written in those books. I can only find two logical explanations for what happened: either the demons were able to get their hands on an Angel's blade, or... an Angel, Death, or God Himself is killing your soldiers.

It can't be. Why would Father or one of my brethren do this? It's impossible. Absurd, even.

So we're looking for a missing Angel blade. Or maybe the demons found another way that isn't written in these books. Lucifer bent Death to his will during the last Apocalypse. Could the demons have managed to replicate the spell?

Baradiel looks up at me. There is a glimmer of pity in his eyes.

Castiel... I really don't think demons are behind this...

That's for me to decide. You can cease your research now and join the Garrison into battle. This is an order.

And then I disappear to fly out with a vigorous wingbeat into the torture chamber we have set up on Earth. Bent over a demon strapped to the pentagram I made myself, Uriel turns to me, a glass of holy water in his hand.

"Castiel," he says, sounding pleasantly surprised. "We were just starting to have fun."

The black-eyed demon coughs up a splatter of blood on the ground, his face convulsed with pain. I walk a few steps closer and take a look at the demon before staring at Uriel.

"Did he talk?"

"Except for claiming he doesn't know anything, no, he didn't. Perhaps I'm not convincing enough. I've always been too soft and kind."

Sarcasm.

I frown thinking back on Baradiel's troubling words.

"Uriel... Do you think... do you really think demons are causing these deaths?"

Uriel raises his eyebrows high while pouring holy water on the head of the demon who is screaming at the top of his lungs. He gives me a puzzled and slightly suspicious look.

"Who else would ever want Lucifer back?"

"You're right. Of course. It can only be demons."

My blade pierces my forearm's skin and comes out of it, falling into my hand. Uriel watches me unblinkingly as I brutally stab it into the demon's wrist. His scream drowns out the distant memories of Camael grimacing with pain while nails were ripping out his flesh and skin.

"How are the demons killing Angels?" I demand coldly, lowering my eyes into his.

Tainted, sulfur-laden blood is running down my blade and staining my fingers.

"I don't know!" he yells, writhing in pain. "I don't know anything!"

I slowly twist my blade into the wound. There are red sparks flashing and crackling across his hand, and his agony grows even louder. Blood is dripping on my wrist and staining my coat sleeve as I watch his ugly, true face cover the unfortunate possessed Human's one.

"Who commanded you to break the seals?"

"Castiel," says Uriel. "As I recall, we are expected to be only looking for information about our fallen brothers' deaths. The hierarchy..."

"I know what we've been ordered to do, Uriel," I say without taking my eyes off the demon. "But I want to know who's leading them, now that Azazel's dead."

Uriel merely shrugs and turns his back.

"Who's giving you the orders?"

I yank my blade off his wrist and place it under the demon's quivering chin.

"Lilith! It's Lilith, the first demon Lucifer created! She is the one breaking the seals!"

I slide my blade over his face, close to his right eye, to urge him to go on. He vainly tries to move his head back as the sharp edge brushes against his eyelashes.

"Lilith and Alastair have taken Hell's throne together! Only they can answer you!"

He doesn't seem to be lying. I withdraw my blade and let it return to my Grace, pondering.

Then, without a word, I thrust my hand over his face, shooting my energy into his body to kill him.

"Alastair..." I whisper quietly. "The demon who tortured Dean in Hell..."

Hands in his pockets, Uriel is staring at me with an expression I can't read. A rustle of feathers draws my attention. An Angel appeared in the shape of a Human child, barely ten or eleven years old. He has red hair and an arrogant look on his chubby, freckled face. Only when I take a look at his true face do I recognize Rzionr Nrzfm.

"Where do I drop this one, my General?"

He is one-handedly holding a demon possessing a Human.

"Rzionr Nrzfm," I say disapprovingly. "Why are you equipped with a vessel not yet out of childhood? We were told only adults were qualified."

My soldier snickers and tosses the demon into the pentagram traced on the ground - facing the still tied corpse - before wiping his hands.

"Yeah, that's what Balthazar would have us believe," he says, his voice high-pitched like children's are. "But the truth is, any Human with special blood and clever enough to understand our question and answer 'yes' will do. Balthazar just prefers adults for their sexual possibilities."

What ? It can't be. Does this mean that I could have already invested Claire's body, and that Balthazar only gave me Jimmy because his daughter has not reached puberty yet?

"Well, it doesn't matter anyway," says Uriel, smirking, "since redheads have no soul."

Rzionr Nrzfm and Uriel inexplicably burst out laughing. What's so funny?

"This isn't true," I say. "All Humans, regardless of their skin and hair color, have a soul."

"It's a joke, Cas," Uriel chuckles. "A joke!"

"But this isn't funny."

"Oh but it is, it really is," Rzionr Nrzfm nods with conviction.

"It is a bit funny, I have to admit."

That was the demon talking, and he promptly shuts up when our heads turn to stare him down. Uriel's purple eyes sparkle with glee when he looks back at me.

"I planted this thought in European human minds a thousand years ago when Anna wasn't looking. What do you think? I figured the goat joke was getting redundant and we needed some new material."

"Indeed, we really needed new jokes," nods Rzionr Nrzfm. "We've been laughing about the goat for at least three or four millennia. It was time to move on!"

I can't help frowning. How dare they?

"The goat joke is perfectly fine. We don't need another one."

Moreover, it is part of a memory very precious to me. The memory of my brothers united into a shared and carefree laughter. Definitely the best memory of my entire existence. Uriel opens his mouth to answer, and I cut him off with a commanding glare.

"And at least the goat joke is funny. But enough about goats and red-headed Humans. Now we know that Alastair and Lilith are leading the operation. We need to capture one of them for questioning."

"So I guess we don't need this one after all?" asks Rzionr Nrzfm, carelessly pointing at the demon he brought back.

"Interrogate him anyway. Just in case."

oOo

Darkness engulfs me like a pool of ink when I walk into the cave. It reeks of blood and sulfur in here. I squint, eyes piercing through the shadows. Uneven stone walls are smeared with demonic markings drawn in blood. I touch the still dripping liquid with my fingertips. It's the blood of virgins whose throats have been slit open.

I step to Jesus Christ's tomb built into the rock. I had removed his corpse at the time, leaving only the blood-stained burial linen cloth. Now all that's left of it is still hot ashes. Camael's blood was one of the seals that Pmox and Miz were assigned to protect.

There's something lying motionless in a dark corner. I can feel my Grace freezing in my vessel's veins when I spot two huge ash stains imprinted on the walls and the ground. A pair of wings.

As I move closer, I can see more clearly the human body Pmox used to possess, lying here at my feet. And he is not alone. Down on his knees with his head lowered, Miz has his arms wrapped around him, cradling Pmox's head against his chest. He's not moving either, and it doesn't take me long to realize that he is also dead. His wings have burned directly onto Pmox's body, scorching through his clothes like a hot iron.

A wave of sadness washes over me as I kneel down to close Miz's eyes and then stroke Pmox's hair. For all his clumsiness, Pmox was a loyal and obedient soldier. Perhaps I shouldn't have been so hard on him...

Two more dead soldiers. I feel helpless and the weight on my shoulders grows heavier. My small army is thinning on a daily basis, while the war rages on and seals get broken one by one.

What if Baradiel was right after all? Could this be God's punishment for all my failures? Is it because I took Anna's place only to do worse than her?

I close my eyes and fervently pray to my Father. And like it has always been since my Creation, I receive no answer.

To think that my Creator wants to punish me and destroy the Garrison carves a dreadful void in me. A void that my devotion used to fill until now. The Lord created me and my one and only role is to serve Him. Who am I if He no longer has use for me? How could I even still exist?

For one short moment, I wonder if this is how Dean feels every day. That ice-cold sensation of falling into the void, of crumbling down on the inside. To have no certainty, nothing to hold on to.

There is a drop of blood dripping from Miz's lips and falling on Pmox's cheek when I open my eyes again. Under Miz's protective arm, there is a blood stain on Pmox's white shirt. So, I pull Pmox from the embrace and lift up the cloth. On the chest's limp, pale skin there is a clean, distinct, blood-soaked hole. A deep one.

The weight on my shoulders gets lighter and my Grace loosens up.

Once I examined Miz, there's no doubt in my mind that my soldiers were killed with a weapon. Miz has a similar wound in his back, right between his wings, which no longer exist.

A weapon did this, not God's Will.

How could I doubt God? How could my Faith waver so easily? My Father would never do such a cruel thing. He would never.

I try not to think that He could have saved my soldiers and averted so many more tragedies by just intervening, and that He never did. The Lord works in mysterious ways. I know this. And no matter how many times I have reminded myself of this, never before has this sentence seemed so empty, now that I'm standing in front of my brothers' lifeless bodies.

However, my duty is to obey, not to think. I will follow orders as best I can, and should I fail, Dean will succeed where I couldn't.

oOo

In the next chapter (will be updated in August)

"Sometimes you just need to embrace change. Go with the flow. Clinging to the past and initial orders can be a bad thing..."