Previously: Ever since they came back from the Hell with Dean, the Garrison soldiers have been battling against demons to stop them from breaking the 66 seals and setting Lucifer free. All Angels are now equipped with a human vessel. Castiel is facing difficulties, because even with 200 new soldiers, his army is still outnumbered. The seals are being broken one by one, and things get worse when soldiers mysteriously die. Six Angels, including Ephra, Pmox and Miz, have been killed now, and all Castiel knows is that a weapon was used.

This chapter takes place in season 4 episode 2.

oOo

Signs of the Apocalypse

"And to think we all considered four soldiers killed in action and two executions under Anael's direction to be the worst that could possibly happen."

"What's the death toll again? Six in just three days time?"

"They couldn't even manage to catch Anael!"

"And as if that wasn't enough, they lazed around in Hell for so long they let the first seal break."

"We all have Castiel to thank for the upcoming Apocalypse! Worried we'd get bored, were you?"

Some ironic applause ensues. Sitting stiffly at the long, white table, I keep my eyes fixed on a distant point, my Grace moving slowly in my vessel's veins. All the division commanders are staring at me with either open animosity, sarcasm or polite indifference. The seats next to me are empty - it seems like no one wanted to sit too close to me, in case it could be interpreted as being supportive of me.

"Come on, now, let's not be too hard on Castiel," says Zachariah with a self-indulgent smile. "He's still a youngster, just learning his way around a high position... we've all made mistakes in our young years, right? I screwed up too, with the dinosaurs. Not my proudest moment, but I've cleaned up my act since then! The Great Ice Age was a huge mess as well. Oh and during the Sixth War, Ecanus and Eboza did throw a part of the ocean up in orbit, remember!"

In his human appearance of a young, dark-skinned Native American, Ecanus glares at Zachariah.

"Don't bring the Sixth War into this. That was completely different, I was wounded and couldn't hear the orders correctly."

"Our mistakes were nothing like Castiel's!" Brap huffs. "None of us tripped and inadvertently started an Apocalypse!"

"Oh, please!" Zachariah lets a high-pitched snicker out. "The Apocalypse! We're not there yet, come on! Castiel's working hard to protect the seals, right? Castiel, how many seals have been broken?"

"Twenty-nine," I say.

"Only twenty-nine!" an Angel mimics aggressively. "Then everything's peachy!"

"Could we focus instead on the issue of credit-sharing on the provisional budget for the next century? As far as I'm concerned, Apocalypse or no Apocalypse, it's all the same to me. Plankton will live through it."

That was Leoc, head of the Plankton Division and Pmox's former General. Just hearing his voice ignites my Grace with anger very hard to repress. He hardly even blinked at the news of his former soldier's death, nor did it seem to surprise him. As if he'd had Pmox transferred to my Garrison hoping for this.

I clench my fists and struggle to keep a neutral expression.

"In his defense, Castiel disposes of a small army, and there's only so much he can do. Accusing him of bringing on the Apocalypse the way Lucifer did is preposterous. Castiel has always been a loyal soldier, and I dare anyone to question his efforts to save the species in his charge. I am convinced that he has all the qualifications to succeed, and that his difficulties are only due to a lack of troops. Zachariah, I mentioned at the Council meeting that I could dispatch some of my soldiers to..."

"You don't need to remind me, Ophaniel. Your request was rejected by the chain of command, so there's no need to drag it out again. Also, Castiel doesn't need you to defend him, he's a big boy. Why don't you go back to your rabbits and kittens and other cute little animals? That's what you do best."

I turn to look at the Angel who stood up for me. Her female vessel is small and slender, and her short hair is tangled in wild curls. For all her heart-shaped face, she's exuding dignity and raw power. Purple and veined with orange, her three eyes are staring at me dispassionately.

Ophaniel. The General of the Ground Animals Division, Hester and Virgil's supervisor. After thousands of years, what was supposed to be a short-term situation became permanent, but my two soldiers are still working for both our divisions.

It is unusual for her to intervene in meetings except to defend her own soldiers' needs. Why is she defending me?

"Castiel, what do you have to say for yourself? No pressure, but your failures are driving us all to the Apocalypse."

I look away from Ophaniel to glower at Zachariah, who raises his eyebrows, smirking. Cold rage rushes through my veins and unfurls my wings in my back. How dare he? How dare they all look down on me and blame me even though I relentlessly fight to save Humanity, to protect my soldiers' lives, while they sit at their desks all day long filling out their charts and statistics or making some silly bets?

"How am I expected to defeat Hell's forces and protect more than six hundred seals with merely two hundred soldiers under my command, when Alastair and Lilith have found a way to kill us, Zachariah? Give me a proper army to lead, and Lucifer will never leave his cage!"

Zachariah tilts his head to the side and blinks smugly, pretending to be sorry.

"Heh!" He raises his hands nonchalantly. "Don't shoot the messenger! I'd do anything to help you, and if it were up to me, I'd give you the army you need right now. I personally forwarded your request up there just the other day, and you know what they told me? That you have to do this alone. These are orders from above, from God, and you know as well as any of us that the Lord works in mysterious ways."

He solemnly points at the ceiling, then shrugs and stops smiling.

"I strongly advise you to pull yourself together, Castiel. Keep what's left of your army alive, fight back this Apocalypse with the means God has given you, and for Heaven's sake, stop whining over your duty, it's annoying. Now sit down."

I didn't realize I had stood up. The silence is deafening as I slowly sit back down.

"Good!" Zachariah clasps his hands with false enthusiasm. "Just in case we lose, do me a favor and go tell Dean he'll have to step up and fix it, will you?"

"I have to tell Dean... about the Apocalypse?"

Zachariah waves my question off.

"Yes, sure, tell him roughly about the seals, the Apocalypse, Lucifer, the whole thing. After all, you told us that he has encountered a seal before, right? He's already in on this. Don't bother explaining that everything rests on him, not yet. It's a bit too soon for our brave savior."

Let Dean know what's happening... Zachariah sounds like he thinks I've already failed. As if the war raging on Earth, in which my soldiers are fighting relentlessly, is doomed to be lost. As if we're nothing but pawns, and our efforts are a waste of time and energy.

"I don't..."

"Shush. That's an order. You know what, go and tell him right now. Having you here is disrupting the meeting schedule and tempting everyone to bet on your next failure."

I rise slowly, silent and livid, humiliation increasing my anger. Zachariah isn't even looking at me anymore.

"So, let's talk about that one little mix-up on the budget of..."

I disappear in a furious flapping of wings.

oOo

The meeting room's spotless whiteness turns to darkness. Invisible to mortal eyes, I land next to the righteous man who is sleeping on the floor. Wrath is burning through my Grace, bitter humiliation throbbing within me, fueled by Zachariah's voice still echoing in my head.

"Castiel?"

That was Htmorda's voice breaking the silence with human rough intonations. Right. I had assigned him Dean Winchester's protection. I look up at his winged figure lurking in a dark corner. He walks towards me heavily, his vessel's large body stepping out of the shadows. The moonlight where silver dust slowly rains down unveils a bearded man whose skin is tattooed. I had not yet seen his vessel. When our eyes meet, he stiffens and frowns at me.

"Are you alright? Is there something wrong? Aren't you supposed to be in a meeting?"

"No."

I don't bother clarifying which of his questions I have just answered, and I crouch down at the righteous man's side, sharply folding back my wings. Sam Winchester is also here, lying on the couch, and I need to talk to Dean alone.

"I need peace and quiet to focus," I say. "Be quiet, Htmorda."

"Huh, right. Okay."

I put two fingers on Dean's forehead, and just before I dive into his dream, I can see his eyelashes fluttering and his eyebrows furrowing.

For a brief moment, it seems like I made a mistake.

But I didn't. I definitely am deep inside his drowsy mind, directly absorbed into his dream. Except that this dream is completely identical to reality: Dean Winchester is dreaming that he's sleeping on the floor of Bobby's house, while his brother is lying on the couch. It's strikingly realistic. Humans who create such real life like dreams are quite rare. The righteous man, I guess, is no ordinary Human in many ways.

Here, in the depths of the righteous man's mind, I am standing in this imaginary setting and leaning back against the furniture behind me, with my eyes set on Dean. This unusual dream isn't enough to distract me from the thoughts storming within me. I have been kicked out of the meeting even though it was just beginning, and this offense only adds to the continued pressure on my Garrison, to my soldiers' unexplained deaths, and to the hierarchy's blatant lack of respect for me. Even worse, my own soldiers show no respect for my rank. Two decades have now passed since I assumed the position, but they still don't seem to fear me or respect me the way the Council members are by their troops. Nor even the way Anna was. Don't I deserve more consideration than a rebel who abandoned her soldiers and denied her nature? Unlike her, I have always been obedient!

Dean's lying shape stirs and he takes a look at me. He obviously doesn't realize he's still sleeping.

I need to pull myself together. I am an Angel of the Lord and the General of the Garrison, I have to accomplish my mission without letting my personal issues get in the way. Zachariah is right. Should my army fail, the righteous man must be prepared.

I observe him walking to me. I only briefly went through Htmorda's report, and according to what he wrote, Dean Winchester and his brother managed - with Bobby's help - to put the witnesses' souls at rest and set them free. We have been so busy protecting the seals that we have had little time to minimize or eliminate the repercussions of those that have already been broken. These three Humans have saved us the trouble. Hardly significant in this context of impending Apocalypse, of course, but at least innocent people won't have to suffer any further damages. Which is not bad, especially coming from a Human destined to save his species.

I force a smile on my face.

"Excellent job with the witnesses."

A compliment, the kind I would have appreciated to receive myself. Dean deserves it. He proved his worth as a soldier. As a weapon.

"You were hip to all this?"

Indignation washes away any trace of hesitation in his eyes.

"I was, uh... made aware."

No need to explain to a Human how Heaven's administration system works. If knowing that I was aware of his struggles is enough to upset him, how would he react if he found out that one of my soldiers has been constantly watching him these past few days and not interfering?

"Well, thanks a lot for the angelic assistance! You know, I almost got my heart ripped out of my chest!"

It's tempting to reply that should that have happened, I would have just brought him back to life again. But I have to stay calm and dignified. I am a messenger of God.

"But you didn't."

The look in Dean's eyes hardens.

"I thought angels were supposed to be guardians. Fluffy wings, halos - you know, Michael Landon. Not dicks."

I assume he's not talking about the Archangel Michael, and he's just referring to something I don't understand. The human imagination surrounding our existence has always been wrong. Ever since the failed Apocalypse and those residual, poorly erased memories in their subconscious mind.

Guardians are rare, and to my knowledge, this kind of mission has not been formally assigned since Cain. Now, the closest thing is the protection of vessels or their families - and that's only when the Angel has been asked to do so and actually keeps his promise. I know for a fact that there are Angels who disregard their vessels, and sometimes leave them in a poor condition, or even deliberately put them in a coma, just so they won't have to ask for their consent to invest their bodies the next time. I can't imagine what Dean would think of them or any of my superiors. I guess the word dick would certainly apply to Zachariah.

Guardians... No. We are certainly not Guardians, not even within the Garrison. The only Guardian Angel that ever existed was Camael. We were created to obey and fight. We are pawns on the Lord's chessboard and no one cares for the fallen. For orders are orders.

"Read the Bible," I say. "Angels are warriors of God. I'm a soldier."

"Yeah? Then why didn't you fight?"

I can feel my wings clenching tighter behind my back. I was combating long before he was born, before this continent was even fully formed. I am God's weapon. I serve Him, and no one else.

I had sensed all the guilt and self-hatred in Dean's soul, though. Is my current appearance what makes him think I'm at his service? Since their creation, Humans have always shown respect for those who are physically larger and more powerful than they are.

If he could see me as I really am, Dean certainly wouldn't address me with such insolence.

"I'm not here to perch on your shoulder. We had larger concerns."

"Concerns?"

Yes, like saving his species from Lucifer's claws. Dean is starting to annoy me. No Human could ever understand. I have seen with my own eyes the Earth burned to ashes and then flooded, the entire Humanity perishing, all my Father's creations drowning or dying screaming in the fire... I never want to live through this again. Through my many years of watching over Humans, I have learned to value and admire them in spite of their flaws and mistakes. I don't want to see them disappear.

"There were people getting torn to shreds down here!"

Looking down at the kitchen table, I can't help but think about my soldiers who were killed by demons. Dead in battle to save Humanity, Dean included, they never received any thanks, not even a single tear was shed for them. No one will ever mourn them or honor their memory.

Now I understand what Anna meant when Camael died. I, too, would have wanted the Humans to mourn Ephra, Pmox and Miz and still remember them in two thousand years.

"And, by the way, while all this is going on, where the hell is your boss, huh, if there is a God?"

I look up sharply at Dean, the blasphemy awakening an ancient terror in me. Last time I heard such a terrible one, Siosp had been executed right before my eyes. Reduced to ashes to set an example.

"There is a God," I snap back.

"I'm not convinced."

I look down, struggling for the right words. Dean is Human, he is not bound by our laws: he is allowed to utter such atrocities with no fear for consequences. I could read in his soul a dreadful lack of Faith, and Faith is what drives my entire existence and gives it meaning. How could I possibly explain what is inherently acquired, what is natural to me?

There are no words for this in human language.

"'Cause if there's a God, what the hell is he waiting for, huh? Genocide? Monsters roaming the earth? The freaking apocalypse? At what point does he lift a damn finger and help the poor bastards that are stuck down here?"

These are questions that I have asked myself on many occasions. These are dangerous, shameful, forbidden questions that only Faith can repel. I often have to remind myself that I'm not in a position to understand my Father's plan, and that I have to trust Him. He knows what He is doing.

"The Lord works..."

"… If you say mysterious ways, so help me, I will kick your ass!"

I raise my hands in resignation. I have been told this so many times in my life. Just a few minutes earlier, from Zachariah's mouth. I am not in the mood to attempt to convert a Human who doesn't believe what's right in front of him. Not when frustration and doubts are eating at me, so much more than during the Flood.

It is ironic that our fate rests on a Human who denies the very existence of the Lord.

During the Flood, for a few seconds, I had considered insubordination. But I have never doubted my Father's existence. Never. I know He exists. My doubts are of a completely different nature. Because with my tens of millions of years of age, and while I'm still quite young for an Angel, I still don't understand anything about God's decisions. What if He wishes to take down the Garrison as punishment for our disobedience? For failing to inspire Faith to the Humans through Camael's sacrifice?

An Angel's devotion cannot be self-interested. It is complete and absolute. Should it be His Will, then I shall comply. For I cannot live without His approval.

"So, Bobby was right... about the witnesses. This is some kind of a... sign of the apocalypse."

Still leaning against the furniture, I take a breath and clench my hands - only two of them, which is something I'm just getting used to. The righteous man himself is refocusing the conversation back to my mission objective. Good. Questions about my Father's absence make me uncomfortable and bring back to the surface some of my earlier doubts.

"That's why we're here. Big things afoot."

"Do I want to know what kind of things?"

Dark green in the half-light, his eyes grow wary. I wonder how he would react if he knew the truth. Perhaps he never will, if I miraculously defeat the armies of Hell with my two hundred soldiers. It would be better if he never finds out. That's all I can hope for.

"I sincerely doubt it, but you need to know. The rising of the witnesses is one of the 66 seals."

"Okay. I'm guessing that's not a show at Seaworld."

Sarcasm. Right.

I swallow back a sharp reply and pursue gravely: "Those seals are being broken by Lilith."

Now I have his attention. I saw in his memories that he met the first demon that Lucifer created from an infant soul, before the Apocalypse, thousands of years ago.

"She did the spell," Dean breathes out, wide-eyed. "She rose the witnesses."

My soldiers never had to confront Lilith directly. Sly and cautious, she always attacked the abandoned seals while we were out fighting. The rise of the witnesses was one of them.

"And not just here," I say in a low voice. "Twenty other hunters are dead."

"Of course. She picked victims that the hunters couldn't save so that they would barrel right after us."

"Lilith has a certain sense of humor."

Just like Azazel, Lust or all the other demons I've come across, Lilith masters the art of irony. I believe she went after hunters knowing perfectly well that we were protecting Dean Winchester. To mock us, to show us her presence by preying on the righteous man's equals.

"Well, we put those spirits back to rest."

"It doesn't matter. The seal was broken."

"Why break the seal anyway?"

Here we are. I take a deep breath and slightly spread my wings behind my back.

"Think of the seals as locks on a door..."

That's the easiest explanation for Dean to understand it. There's no need for me to detail the seals' mechanism and the energy they hold. Century after century, more seals have been built up to secure the Cage, and those protections would be impossible to break if only I had an army as large as, for example, Leoc's – honestly, does plankton require five thousand soldiers to idly gaze at it?

"Okay. Last one opens and..."

I look up into the righteous man's shadowy dream. I remember vividly my elder brother, towering and radiant with light amidst the smoking ruins of Creation and the wandering souls of the exterminated Humans. How powerful he was. How beautiful. And I remember his words, how he threatened the Humans...

I take one step forward to face Dean and look into his eyes.

"Lucifer walks free."

His green eyes widen in disbelief and shock.

"… Lucifer? But I thought Lucifer was just a story they told at demon Sunday school. There's no such thing."

I can't help but smile. There are so many things that Dean doesn't know...

It is surprising to find that after all he has been through, and with the rare privilege of standing in the presence of an Angel, Dean keeps doubting what he sees and hears.

Most Humans don't need quite as much to believe.

"Three days ago, you thought there was no such thing as me."

Dean grows very quiet, looking shaken. My mission is accomplished. I should leave, return to the battlefield, lead my troops. But I can't help but continue:

"Why do you think we're here walking among you now for the first time in two thousand years?"

"To stop Lucifer..." he whispers.

I silently nod, oddly satisfied. Even if the hierarchy doesn't acknowledge my work, and Humanity will never come to know about the sacrifices that my Garrison has made, at least the righteous man will know about it.

"That's why we've arrived," I say, still staring at him unblinkingly.

He moistens his lips, regaining some confidence.

"Well... bang-up job so far. Stellar work with the witnesses. That's nice."

Now he's leaning against the furniture, just like I was before. Instinctive primate mimicry. Just like it has been for millions of years.

The way he's smirking and the sarcastic look in his eyes remind me of Zachariah. I can feel myself stiffening.

"We tried. And there are other battles, other seals. Some we'll win, some we'll lose. This one we lost."

My frustration grows when he rolls his eyes and lets out a demeaning sigh, not even bothering to look at me. My anger turns into a cold rage, freezing my Grace in my veins.

It's like I'm back in the meeting room, mocked by the division heads who all seem to find my failures so unexpected. But under similar conditions, even the best soldier would have failed!

"Our numbers are not unlimited. Six of my brothers died in the field this week. You think the armies of Heaven should just follow you around?"

My body moved on its own, driven by the torrent rushing through my veins. I can endure the lack of consideration from my superiors, older and more experienced than I am, and I can bear my own soldiers' disregard, but I won't stand the humiliation of being sneered at and looked down upon by a mere mortal!

Ephra, Miz and Pmox, my brothers who have been by my side since the dawn of my existence, didn't die in indifference so that this ape could behave as though we were his servants!

"There's a bigger picture here."

I take a step further, still staring at him, radiating power that pulses through the air. Even though I have to look up at him in this form, I know that in reality he would barely be the size of an ant in the palm of my hand. Such a puny little thing.

If it weren't for me, he would still be in Hell, about to become just another lowly demon. He should be bowing down and be grateful, instead of judging me. I don't have to explain myself to a Human in my charge.

My hands close into fists with the humiliation, rage, helpless anguish that has driven me since this war began. No - before. Ever since Anna betrayed us.

"You should show me some respect. I dragged you out of Hell. I can throw you back in."

There is some satisfaction I take in the terror filling his eyes as I pull myself out of his mind and disappear from his dream.

I open my eyes into reality and rise above his still sleeping form. Htmorda is looking at me blankly, his hands in his pockets and as motionless as a stone.

"Castiel? Is there anything I can-"

I shut Htmorda up with a single glance and spread my wings. With a strong flapping, I disappear, taking my anger with me.

oOo

My favorite Paradise's warmth wraps me in light and children's distant laughter. Standing a few meters from me, the Human is staring up at his kite twirling in the sky, and there is innocent wonder brightening his face. This is the first time that I'm visiting this place in my new body. The trees, shrubs and benches seem much higher, more colorful and detailed than from above.

I carefully fold my wings back and try to appease the turmoil troubling my Grace. I can't face the hierarchy, my army or the demons like this.

What was I thinking?

I made a hollow threat on Dean. There's no way the chain of command would let me send him back to Hell when we still need him. Never before in my life have I felt such anger. I overstepped and took advantage of my superiority on a Human. This war is affecting me more than I thought. Not only do the lives of my closest brothers and sisters depend on me, but also the fate of Father's work of creation and the Garrison's reputation in Heaven.

I look up to the blue sky and watch the colorful square slice through the air like a bird. Sometimes it hovers, then dives and spins, caught in a frenzy. My fists are unclenching.

If only I, too, could stay here forever...

"Castiel."

I lower my head and turn around to face a male vessel with blond hair and blue eyes, dressed in red and white stripes.

"Samandriel."

The young Angel smiles at me, and on his true face glowing through, his three eyes, green and lined with silvery filaments, sparkle softly. The grass muffles my little brother's footsteps as he walks to me, until he's standing by my side. His vessel may be shorter than mine, but I find comfort in his presence. His human eyes look up to the sky, shadowed by his cap. I silently do the same, and my Grace seems to calm down and to harmonize with his, which hasn't happened ever since Anna fell.

My coat is gently swaying in the breeze and the kite is swirling high above.

"What are you doing here?" I finally say in a murmur, keeping my eyes fixed on the kite.

Samandriel lets a few seconds pass before replying.

"Humans are amazing, don't you think? So imaginative and unpredictable, beautiful and tragic through their mistakes and thirst for life... They deserve to be saved. They deserve all of your efforts and sacrifices."

I lower my head and frown. Samandriel is staring at me unblinkingly with a thoughtful smile.

"I knew I would find you here, Castiel." He tilts his head to the side, his smile fading. "I heard what happened at the meeting."

I avert my eyes, humiliation cutting deep into my Grace.

"Don't take criticism personally, Castiel. Your opponents speak loudly, and your supporters quietly. You know, Ophaniel and Ecanus offered to send part of their troops to join the Garrison."

"It doesn't matter. Six of my soldiers were killed in action."

"Hearing that they were dead pained me. But I fear Fate is working against you. Apparently this Apocalypse has been written a long time ago. We all have our roles to play, but yours is most certainly the hardest to embrace."

His voice sounds sincere, and I ponder his words. This isn't the first time we've been purposely ordered to do something that is bound to fail. Convincing Pharaoh, saving Lot's wife only for her to be turned into a salt statue, Camael's human life... It shouldn't surprise me anymore. Is it because now I am a General that I find it so hard to accept? Is it because my brothers died that I'm having doubts? Is it because the fate of Humanity is at stake?

Or is it just misplaced pride?

I frown, bemused, and squint at my brother.

"How do you know about this?"

This is not the first time I have caught Samandriel knowing far more than expected from his age and rank.

"I'm a good listener. Our siblings often come to me to talk."

All my anger fades away like mist in the wind. A faint uneasiness replaces it as I watch the autistic man's outline cut out in the light. Only now do I realize how unfair I've been to Dean, and how I've failed my duties. A General should know how to show composure, and not let a mere mortal's words upset him.

Especially since the righteous man is in the same position as I am. A pawn on the chessboard of God and Fate. Except he is unaware of it, deluded by an illusion of freedom.

As for me, I have known from the very first day that I'm only a weapon. Nothing more.

oOo

The back of the skull hits the stone with a dull sound, while under my fingers light gushes out from the possessed Human's mouth and eyes. I rise up and turn around without another look at the body burned from the inside. Swiftly, I reach out and grab two other enemies' heads to smite them too. The hideous and distorted face vanishes instantly, and the victims' features return as they die. Their choked cry fades away and the bodies collapse, raising dust from the arid ground. My coat swings around my legs - then, my wings unfurl and I flap them vigorously, dashing off to appear just behind a demon whispering evil incantations to send us back to Heaven. Did he think we wouldn't spot him?

The nape of his neck is moist under my hand and stiffens when, with a quick impulse, my Grace rushes into the possessed body, pouring into his veins to purify and destroy all trace of evil in the blood. Quite radical, this process ends the Human's life as well, but it's clean and efficient. I am the Garrison General, and in times of war, I cannot afford to empathize with casualties.

When the body falls to the ground, I take a long look at the battlefield.

The blue sky overlooks this landscape of rocks and dust bathed in sunlight. There are only a few hundred demons left still active. Between the three of us - Zedekiel, Hester and I - we've already wiped out more than half of their army, and now corpses are littering the ground. Others are falling into the ravine cutting a deep, shadowy gap through the mountain. In the melee, Zedekiel is busy smiting demons one by one and fighting off those getting in his way - although a bit chaotic, his movements are graceful and efficient.

I can't see Hester though. Where is she?

I stride over to the still unbroken seal, exasperation pulsing through my Grace. I had explicitly ordered her to stick close to the seal to stop the demons from digging into the ground. The sacred salt crystals - remains of Lot's wife's body that Rachel once petrified - cannot be dug up. I don't know how the demons found out where they are, but I won't let them get hold of them.

"Castiel, watch out!"

I whirl around and here is Hester, blade in hand, hurling herself at a demon that was about to attack me. I stand still and watch her smite the enemy and then face me with a fierce gaze as she rises to her feet. Her long pale blond hair is all disheveled.

"Hester. Your orders are to protect the seal, not me. I can take care of myself."

My sister sulks and averts her eyes, nervously turning her blade in her hand.

"I know you can." With the tip of her shoe, she pushes the lifeless body lying at our feet. "I was keeping an eye on the seal. Everything's under control."

A little help, anyone?!

That was Zedekiel's voice. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see him getting outnumbered and knocked to the ground. There is a demon yelling an incantation over his face, and intense light is starting to pour out of my brother's mouth and eyes.

Hester makes a move to go, and I stop her with one look. My blade slides out of a vein, piercing through the skin of my forearm and falling into my hand.

"No." I unfurl my wings. "Stay close to the seal. That's an order."

With a flap of my wings I storm into the battle, grabbing the demon's hair in my fist to throw him away, making him fall into the abyss while I slay the enemies around me. Zedekiel scrambles to his feet, out of breath, and blindly slashes his way through the demon crowd. Panic is making him lose all strategic insight.

"Lilith says hi!" a demon hisses to my ear.

I find myself violently flung backwards, and fall into the abyss. I get a last glimpse of the battlefield before I dive into darkness: about thirty hideous demons, their hands stretched out towards me, eyeballs as black as ink.

I can hear Hester screaming and my coat fluttering as I fall, until my wings snap open with a soft rustle, bringing my fall to a halt. I flap them and rise back to the battlefield. There's only about a hundred demons still alive, and I have yet to see any of them wielding an Angel's blade or any kind of mysterious weapon that the Heaven Library wouldn't know about. It seems like we have already won, terror is spreading through the enemy ranks, but I have to be ready for anything that might happen. There are other battles being fought out there right now, and no doubt Lilith and Alastair would rather strike my isolated or less powerful soldiers.

A fist, thrown with supernatural strength, hits me in the face with a loud crash, but it still doesn't make me flinch or even blink. I slowly turn my head to face the demon who's staring at his broken wrist in disbelief, and in one fluid gesture, I thrust my blade into his chest. His body collapses, skin flickering through agony as the possessed Human's life fades along with the demon's. I stifle any sympathy I may experience and wipe the blood off my blade, eyes lowered on this empty, inert corpse lying on the ground. An unavoidable sacrifice. Not the first, certainly not the last in this war.

Still, I can't help deploring every single life killed in this war.

"They killed the leader!"

"Let's take off, we're fucked, there's too many of those celestial cunts!"

"Have you lost your minds? Don't you know what Alastair does to deserters when he finds them?!"

"We can't leave this place until the bloody seal is broken!"

"Let's get the fuck out of here! I'll take the torture over being dead!"

"You don't know what you're talking about! Better dead than under Alastair's scalpel!"

"Keep your positions, you morons!"

Taking advantage of the confusion, I signal Hester to join us and surround the demons. And then we proceed to exterminate them one by one. Once there are only a dozen of scared demons left alive, they attempt to flee from their vessels, but we slap our hands over their mouths to smite them without any escape.

Silence descends on the barren ground littered with corpses, and I nod at my two soldiers in satisfaction.

"Good work," I say. "The seal is safe and secured."

I gaze at the horizon where blue sky melts into the shimmering water of the Dead Sea. From this high up in the mountains, there is a magnificent view of the salt lake, which has shrunk over the centuries and whose southern part is used by humans as a salt marshes.

There is a warm breeze gently blowing through my coat and ruffling my hair. Hester walks over to my side and touches my shoulder with her fingertips to brush my tie back in place, as it had been thrown off in the heat of battle. Hesitantly, her hand lingers there for a second, then withdraws.

"Seems like yesterday when we were raining fire and death on Sodom and Gomorrah..." She looks up wistfully to the sky, her blond hair gently waving in the wind. "… and when Siosp was killed for his insolence and poor judgement," she says in a quiet breath, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye.

I pinch my lips and let my blade slip back into my Grace. I don't like being reminded of my brothers who died. Thinking about Siosp or Camael is useless and only brings back haunting, troubling questions. Questions that I never had at the dawn of my existence, and that I should never have thought about.

Zedekiel steps to my right, hands in the pockets of his black, regulatory clothing - a suit suggesting authority and power in the current human society. Our vessels are about the same size, but his skin is milky-white and his blond hair tied in a bun.

"Siosp has always been way too dedicated to the very first mission we were given." He sighs. "Sometimes you just need to embrace change. Go with the flow. Clinging to the past and initial orders can be a bad thing." He gives me a hard look as though he's trying to make me understand something, then walks away, striding over corpses, wings tensed behind his back. "I will dispose of the bodies and write the report."

Confused, I watch my brother's lean figure moving away. There's something amiss. Zedekiel was obviously hinting at something, but I have no idea what.

There's a hand gently brushing against my arm. I frown and turn my head to meet Hester's gaze. Smaller in size, she looks up at me with wide blue eyes.

"Castiel... I... promise me you won't take our mission too personally, and that you'll think twice before turning down an offer."

I glance down at her hand as it slides up my arm and grips my shoulder, then at her true face showing through - her three pale grey eyes are as bright as the sky after a thunderstorm.

"What offer?"

My soldiers are acting very strangely. And Hester even more so than the others.

"Just… be careful. I fear for you, Castiel."

Feathers rustling in the arid air, and the warmth on my shoulder is gone.

I stand alone, gazing at the skyline.

oOo

In the next chapter (should be updated in September… hopefully)

"No matter if we win this war or fail, I will follow and support you until my last breath."