Author's note: My betareader CloudFactory is very busy with her job and her studies, and since I don't want her to die of exhaustion, I'll give her a rest and just start updating the chapters unbeta'd for a while. I hope there won't be too many typos or weirdly worded sentences! Feel free to notify me if you spot a big mistake and how to fix it.

Previously: Since they saved Dean from Hell, the Garrison soldiers have been battling the demons to prevent them from breaking the 66 seals and thus setting Lucifer free. But they're outnumbered and the hierarchy won't give Castiel additional troops. The seals are being broken one by one and six Angels including Ephra, Pmox and Miz have mysteriously died. Blamed by other division heads, Castiel has a hard time containing his anger. In addition to all this, some of his soldiers are acting oddly…

This chapter takes place in season 4 episode 3.

oOo

Revelations

My feet are anchored to the ground, I couldn't move even if I were to put all my strength into it. My organs' vital functions are suspended and my Grace is rigidified in the veins and arteries, now as solid and compact as my blade. My entire being is resonating with Heaven, basking in the Divine Will, absorbing the flow of information through images and sounds. Everything unfolds in a myriad of colors overthrowing all notions of time, space and existence. Here and away, past and present cease to make sense – there's nothing left but commands seeping into my Grace.

Everything around me is merely information on the edge of my consciousness - unimportant. There is a door slamming somewhere, the sound is muffled, like a thousand oceans away. The stream of Revelations ceases and my Grace fluidifies, flowing again into my blood and flesh. I blink my eyes open while my heart starts beating anew and lower my head to meet the gaze of the Angel sitting on the chair facing my desk.

My sister is staring unblinkingly at me, legs crossed. Long blond hair is curling around her face - she's contained inside a woman in a white dress.

"Levanael? What are you doing here?"

A hint of a smile grazes her lips and she hands me a file. I take it, sitting down to leaf through it. It's her daily mission report, listing attacks by lower demons and coordinates of her locations and seal assignments.

"You could have just dropped it on my desk. There was no need to give it to me in person."

"I'm aware. I just wanted to talk to you." She tilts her head and a hair lock glides from her ear to her neck. "You seemed like you couldn't see or hear me. Were you receiving Revelations?"

I close her report and file it with the others.

"Yes."

Receiving Revelations is an operation that instills the Divine Will into the Grace, which temporarily paralyzes it. This is why it is advisable to be alone for the process.

But I don't understand. The new orders I've just been given are absurd. Absurd and cruel.

I have to bring Dean Winchester back to the past, before he was even born, so that he can see what Azazel did to his parents and have a better understanding of Sam's situation and what is at stake. At least this I can understand - Dean only believes what he can see, so he needs hard evidence in order to acknowledge reality in a situation he is confronted with. But... To let him believe that his family's fate can be changed, while ensuring that the curse does hit his parents? Is Adam and Eve's bloodline doomed to be forever targeted by Destiny through the ages?

"Castiel."

I look up, startled. I thought she had already left but Levanael is still there, staring at me with the same earnest gravity she has always had since the day we were created - it never wavered, not even after Siosp's or Camael's execution.

"Is there anything else you wanted to say?" I say, standing up.

"Yes. There is something I need to tell you, brother."

I take a long look at her. None of my soldiers have called me brother since my promotion, and certainly not with such confidence. This simple word's gentle undertones stir up memories in me that I promptly stifle back.

There is no time to waste. If the information I have been given is correct, I will be stuck in the past on observation duty for several days. This will give me time to listen to whatever Levanael wants to tell me. There is nothing in the orders stating that I can't bring a soldier with me on this mission and it would be safer not to get close to Azazel on my own - I don't know if the demons were already in possession of their weapon at that time.

"I must leave on priority mission immediately." I spread my wings in a rustle of feathers. "Come with me, you'll talk to me on the way."

Levanael gets up swiftly, unfolding her ethereal wings. Her pure white feathers blur into the brightness of her dress.

the next second, we appear in a pitch-dark hotel room. It seems like it's night time in this hemisphere. Over the last two thousand years the Garrison has spent far more time in Heaven than down there, and there are times when I lose track of the time passing here on Earth. And yet it's my duty to keep track of this, all the more so since Humans decided to quantify time in days, Thursday was assigned to me. In theory I am somewhat responsible for all Humans born on a Thursday, but concretely, protecting them has never been under my jurisdiction. It's merely an empty honorary title, just like Camael's designation as Angel of Joy was.

"Castiel? Levanael? Is there something wrong?"

Htmorda's hoarse voice rises behind us. Htmorda, always devoted to the role I gave him. I glance over my shoulder at his winged shape merged into a dark corner.

"Htmorda. Where is Sam?" I ask when I notice that one of the two beds in the room is empty.

"He just walked out to meet his demon. At 425 Waterman Street, to be more precise. I was just about to send my report to you."

He steps forward heavily and I raise my head to meet his gaze. My brother's human body is bulky and surprisingly hairy for a Human - there are thick black curls sticking out of his shirt - and when he steps out of the shadows, the ray of artificial light filtering through the half-open curtains highlights the clear size difference between my two soldiers. Standing by his side, Levanael might look delicate and weak, but I know them both to be excellent soldiers of similar strength.

"I need to speak with Dean. Your observation mission is temporarily on hold. You can go with the others to watch the seals and I'll let you know when you can come back."

Htmorda glances at Levanael with a strange look in his eyes and gives a stiff nod. With a silky rustle of his wings, he's gone in the blink of an eye. I look over to the bed where the righteous man is sleeping and step closer. He's lying on his side, restless in his sleep: his eyelids are twitching, his eyebrows are furrowed and his breathing is labored.

"What is the mission about?"

I take a look at my sister whose wings are carefully folded behind her back, her hair ruffled by our flight. There is a blonde lock caught between her pale lips, but she doesn't seem to mind.

"I have to bring Dean back into the past, so that he can see with his own eyes what Azazel did to his parents. This will make him more likely to warn Sam off the demons when he returns."

Levanael tilts her head to the side doubtfully but doesn't comment at all. She looks down at the righteous man and a soft smile grazes her lips as she sits on the bed. When she reaches out to pet his hair, Dean scowls and tenses, pushing his head further into the pillow while his jacket slips off his shoulder.

"I had been flung out of Hell before I could see him," my sister whispers. "So this is the righteous man. So much weight on such tiny shoulders..."

Her eyes turn cloudy and blank all of a sudden - she obviously just dived into Dean's mind.

"He's having a very bad dream," she whispers empathetically.

A bad dream? The one I stepped into was utterly dull, though. I wonder what kind of nightmare a mind like Dean's can possibly produce. I let my vessel slip into corporeal reality, then sit on the mattress which sags under my weight.

"Wake him up," I order in a low voice.

There is nothing unintentional about this mission. The hierarchy intends to provide Dean with incomplete information, the plan is for him to bring his little brother back on the right path, so that we won't have to kill him. Technically speaking, this is a good thing.

Still, I don't like it.

It makes me uneasy to think that the hierarchy is probably doing the same with me. There's no doubt that lately I received incomplete and incorrect information myself. It wouldn't be the first time. This is how Heaven works, even I don't tell my soldiers everything I know. The lower you are in the hierarchy, the greater the mystery.

Dean Winchester is just as enslaved to Fate as I am, except he has no idea.

A strangled gasp behind my back tells me that the righteous man has awakened from his bad dream.

"Hello, Dean. What were you dreaming about?" I ask with curiosity.

I turn my head to meet his gaze. In his eyes, shadows of sheer panic fade away to be replaced by annoyance.

Still invisible to mortal eyes, Levanael stands up gracefully.

"He was reliving our raid into Hell," she says. "His memories are foggy but the fear is still ingrained in his subconscious."

Dean sits up and moodily shoves off his jacket he was using as a blanket.

"What, do you get your freak on by watching other people sleep? What do you want?"

"Listen to me. You have to stop it."

"Stop what?"

Levanael frowns when I reach out to place two fingers on the righteous man's forehead, pushing him into a deep slumber. He drops back down on the mattress with his mouth half open.

"You wanted me to wake him up just so you could send him right back to sleep?"

My sister's voice sounds somewhere between confusion and amusement. She materializes into physical reality, her white dress brushing against the Human's motionless hand.

"I could have taken him right into the past without bothering to speak a word to him, but I figured Dean would be less disoriented when he wakes up if he understands why he's there. There was no rule stopping me from doing that."

Levanael lets out a crystal clear laugh.

"Quite the contrary, I think that your words will just make him even more confused."

I narrow my eyes.

"What do you mean? I think I have been very clear and to the point."

"I can't help but think that he didn't grasp any of it. Just a hunch."

I slowly unfurl my wings and steps closer to Levanael who is watching me with a fond gleam in her eyes shadowed with blond eyelashes.

"Take the righteous man, Levanael. We're leaving at once."

She nods and lifts Dean in her arms effortlessly, then adjusts the leather jacket on his belly.

"When and where?"

"April 30th, 1973. Lawrence, Kansas."

oOo

Balthazar was right, time travel is so much easier in a vessel than in our true form. Still, I can tell most of my energy has been drained. It will probably take a couple of days for my Grace to fully recover.

"Now what?" my sister asks.

I lean against a tree and watch the righteous man walk into the bar where his father is, as I had planned.

"Now, we wait. And we get ready to interfere unnoticed if he alters events too much."

I look over at my sister, she's standing very still with her face blank and her eyes staring into the distance. Her vessel looks soft and thin, but the raw power radiating from her is building an aura of energy all around her. No doubt mortals can't see it, just like they can't see our face and wings spilling out of our vessels.

"What did you want to tell me, Levanael?"

My sister blinks and looks at me, her face softening.

"Samandriel told me that you are having some difficulties with the hierarchy and your duties as our general."

I avert my eyes in shame. Why did Samandriel have to tell her this? I don't need my soldiers to have this impression of me. A General should be unwavering, stoic, unshakeable in his convictions. It is difficult enough for me to assert my authority over my siblings who have known me since our creation, so if they hear how the hierarchy treats me...

"Cas..."

A warm hand on my shoulder. I look down to meet my sister's gaze. She is almost one head shorter than I am, staring at me seriously, unsmiling. Her dark blue eyes are tinged with lightning tones, eyeballs filled with her Grace.

"General or not, you are and always will be our brother. There is no need to try to act like Anna or the Council members. You're not like them. It's not like you to use threats and fear to assert yourself. You don't need this, our loyalty is already yours. We follow and obey you, not out of fear, but because we care for you."

"Levanael..."

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

I don't know how to react or answer to my sister's fierce gaze. My silence doesn't seem to come as a surprise to her, and she smiles at me as she withdraws her hand. Over her shoulder, I can see Dean walking out of the bar after his father and Levanael follows my gaze.

"You should go and explain to him again what he's doing here," she says, arching a blond eyebrow.

I nod and in a flap of wings we appear together on the street corner. John Winchester walks right through us, since we are immaterial and invisible.

I bring myself into physical reality at the very moment when the righteous man walks around the corner. He comes to a halt right in front of me, looking bewildered. I guess Levanael has a point. Judging by his confused look, he didn't quite grasp my instructions, I should give him some hints.

"What is this?" he asks, sounding somewhat breathless.

"What does it look like?"

"Is it real?"

"Very."

"Okay, so what? Angels got their hands on some DeLoreans? How did I get here?"

I glance at Levanael who's watching our interaction, her head tilted to the side and her blond hair flowing over her white dress. She makes a short chin gesture to encourage me.

"Time is fluid, Dean. It's not easy but we can bend it on occasion."

"Well bend it back or tell me what the hell I'm doing here!"

"I told you, you have to stop it."

"Stop what?" he exclaims, clearly losing patience. "What, is there something nasty after my dad?"

I dissociate myself from reality by becoming invisible again and Levanael lays a somewhat cynical look on me.

"What?" I say in annoyance. "I can't possibly be more obvious!"

"Oh, come on! What, are you allergic to straight answers, you son of a bitch?!" Dean shouts out loud, getting a few inquisitive glances from pedestrians across the street.

Levanael looks at the righteous man rushing to catch up with his father.

"You've done it now, look at the poor thing, you've upset him."

"It's advisable not to be too specific," I say as an explanation. "Dean is a skilled hunter. And if he attempts to kill Azazel now, it will be up to us to stop this from happening. We're here not only to keep Dean safe, but also to make sure he doesn't stray off the time line. It's Sam he really has to stop."

Levanael frowns thoughtfully.

"Do you realize that at this very point in the timeline, we are in Heaven under Anna's orders? Pmox, Miz and Ephra are still alive. Have you ever considered that it would take so little to alter the course of events? If I could save Siosp and Camael..."

"It's forbidden," I cut her short. "We are the agents of Fate, Levanael. What is written cannot be unwritten. The consequences would be beyond our imagination. Besides, none of us is powerful enough to go back in time for more than a few centuries."

My voice is steady. I'm merely stating what I've always been taught, what I already knew at the very moment of my creation. There is no choice or freedom for Angels. Nor for any creature on Earth.

"I know that," she says wistfully, gazing at the blue sky.

Only then do I realize that Levanael is probably the most loyal and reliable of all my soldiers. Like me, despite her regrets and hesitations, she has always placed orders before her own personal interests.

oOo

"Human methods of travel are awfully slow."

Deep inside, I really can't disagree as I gaze at the nightscape moving at an insufferably slow pace through the car's window.

"And narrow," Levanael huffs. "My wings are sticking out."

I look over my shoulder. Looking awkward, my sister is stiff as a rock on the back seat, struggling and failing to fold her ethereal wings inside the confined space smelling of leather and gasoline. My wings also extend outside of the sheet metal frame, but I don't particularly mind.

"Why do you care? Your wings are not even in this dimension."

"Still, I don't like it."

She stares at the righteous man's nape with her deep blue eyes. He's driving, silent and focused.

"Do you think his plan could actually work?"

I stare also at Dean, studying his profile – there is a crease between his eyebrows and his jaw is visibly clenched. As I feared, the Human quickly figured out what it was all about, and promptly drew up a plan to kill Azazel with the resources available at the time.

"To retrieve the Colt to kill Azazel... Yes, it might work."

I remember talking about this weapon with Balthazar after Azazel's death. It had made quite a stir in Heaven when Dean shot him dead. According to Balthazar, the Colt can only kill monsters and demons, and Azazel, while originally a Cherub, was too tainted and had nothing celestial left in him. If Dean does use the weapon to kill Azazel now... Everything would be different.

I'm still staring at Dean when my sister leans forward to try to catch my gaze.

"Castiel... Think objectively for a moment. If Azazel were to die today, the righteous man would never sell his soul, he would never go to Hell, he would never break the first seal, and there would never be a war. Pmox, Miz and Ephra won't die, and Lucifer's Cage can never be opened! Isn't that our priority mission, after all? To stop the Apocalypse?"

I avert my eyes and straighten my back. The concrete road ahead is brightly lit by the headlights, slowly and tediously unfolding before me.

Technically, Levanael isn't wrong, but...

"We were not sent here to do this. The hierarchy trusts us to do our duty, we have to be worthy of it."

"But..." Levanael pauses to make herself more comfortable in the back of the car. I can see in the rear-view mirror that she is now slouched down on the seats, with her wings tucked in front of her. Her left wing extends all the way through Dean's body who is totally unaware of it. "Why?" she sighs. "Why does the hierarchy waste a whole time travel to show your Human what we could have directly told him?"

"Do you remember Thomas?"

"Saint Thomas? Camael's apostle?"

"Yes. It was particularly hard to convince him of his resurrection, and I had to use my best illusions. Dean is just like him. He only believes what he can see."

I can hear Levanael sitting upright and feel her gaze on the back of my head.

"You're missing the point, Cas'. What I mean is, the hierarchy could have just sent us to kill Azazel in the past instead of sending us under-staffed into a war against demons. It almost looks like they want the Cage to open..."

I pinch my lips and feel my wings tensing behind my back. Levanael is saying out loud what I have been trying to keep to myself since this mission began. Watching Dean struggle to save his family is painful to me, knowing that if by any chance he succeeded, I would have to stop him.

Rather than replying to my sister, I take myself into physical reality, drawing a surprised inhalation out of Dean.

"What are you doing?" asks Levanael in puzzlement.

"So what? God's my co-pilot, is that it?" comes Dean's low voice from my left side.

I throw him a sharp glance. What does he mean? Is he blaspheming again?

"I think that's sarcasm, Castiel," Levanael informs me.

Oh. I look back at the road as I ponder over my soldier's words. I can't bring these valid comments to the hierarchy, since we are in the past. And even if I could ask them, I already know that I would be given the usual answer: orders are orders. All my life, I've never obtained a satisfying answer to my questions when I dared to voice them.

I wonder what the righteous man would do in my situation, considering that he is in a very similar one.

"Well, you're a regular Chatty Cathy. Tell me something. Sam would have wanted in on this, why not bring him back?"

"You had to do this alone, Dean."

The orders were specific. The objective is to make Dean see that his brother is on the wrong track, so that he will be willing to get him back on the right path. Sam was not allowed to be present.

"And you don't care that he's tearing up the future looking for me right now?"

"Sam's not looking for you."

Clearly, Dean did not grasp the basics of space-time travel. Time does not continue to flow along at our starting point. By the time we get back, barely a fraction of a second will have passed.

"This confined space is really uncomfortable," Levanael grumbles behind my back.

I can hear her stretching and vigorously shaking an ethereal wing that slice right through Dean again, so loudly that the sound partly slips into physical reality, and then she folds it back moodily.

"Alright, if I do this, then the family curse breaks, right? Mom and Dad live happily ever after, and – and, Sam and I grow up playing little league and chasing tail?"

"You realize, if you do alter the future, your father, you, Sam – you'll never become hunters. And all those people you saved, they'll die."

I say these words, my eyes locked on my sister's reflection in the glass. She frowns, looking up with surprise.

"Castiel..."

Her voice is barely above a whisper.

God is not answering my prayers, the hierarchy declines all my questions, so why wouldn't I seek advice from Dean? He is, after all, the righteous man of prophecy, and he too faces a situation where he has to make a critical choice.

What would he do in my place?

"I realize," Dean answers softly.

I turn my head towards him in disbelief. Could it be Humanity's typical irrational selfishness, putting their own interests before any others' or even their own species'?

"And you don't care?"

"Oh, I care. I care a lot."

Dean looks at me and his eyes are filled with determination... but also with genuine, aching empathy. So very human.

"But these are my parents. I'm not gonna let them die again. I can't."

I understand now. This is not selfishness, but filial love. The righteous man values his family above all else, and if I were to apply his reasoning to my own situation, I would have to disobey and strive to prevent my brethren from dying in this war. Or just be obedient to my Father as I have always been. I no longer know what to think.

This is all pointless. Heaven is literally one single family. Human standards don't apply to my situation.

I shift myself out of the earthly reality, confused.

"No, not if I can stop it."

The righteous man's words trail off as he glances in my direction, unable to see me, and then focuses his attention back on driving, clenching his fingers on the steering wheel. There is a strained silence, filled with the humming of the car.

"You won't find your answer from the righteous man's mouth," says Levanael softly. "He's only a Human. He doesn't know what's at stake and can hardly see further than his own interest."

She's right. For Dean, it's all about choosing between his family and strangers, so his feelings easily dictate his actions. As for me... it is not feelings, but Faith and devotion that have always guided my steps. I could save my soldiers, stop the Apocalypse before it even happens... but that would imply disobeying my Father, betraying my very nature and the trust placed in me, and putting my own interests above the plans of Destiny and all of Heaven. Showing vanity by believing myself to be wiser than God. That would make me worse than Lucifer...

To commit the worst of all sins.

"What would you do in my place, Levanael?"

"I don't know. But no matter what your decision is, I will follow you."

I look down wearily at my hands. I wish I, too, could blindly rely on someone higher up, just as I had always followed Anna. But ever since I was promoted to the head of the Garrison, nothing is that simple anymore. The choice I need to make is throwing me into confusion, digging a dreadful pit inside of me. What am I supposed to do? If only there was someone to show me the way...

Millions of years have conditioned me to turn to Anna for guidance. But Anna is no longer there. It is now up to me to lead others. And I'm the one they look up to, waiting for answers. But how could I possibly make a choice when all I long for is to mindlessly obey?

"Cas..."

When a hand touches my shoulder, I turn my head to face Levanael, staring deep into her dark blue eyes lined with blond eyelashes. She leans forward so that her nose is just inches away from mine, her breath brushing over my skin.

"I'm worried about you. You have the same look in your eyes that Camael had before he rebelled."

I promptly avert my eyes to watch my own reflection in the glass. Jimmy Novak's face returns a dark look to me.

"Do not fear, sister. I won't get lost like he did."

oOo

With my eyes set on Azazel, I put my foot on the Colt lying on the ground to prevent it from being used to shoot the demon. As for Levanael, she's standing next to the righteous man to ensure his safety. There are screams, and I stand still as I watch the tragedy unfold before my eyes, not at all surprised to see Azazel stab Dean's grandfather to death while he still is in possession of his body. A body that is now nothing more than a walking corpse. I already knew that Samuel Campbell and his wife Deanna die tonight. It is written. So when Deanna lunges to try to grab the Colt, I press down harder on it and extend a hand to slow her down while Levanael restrains Dean by the shoulder to prevent him from rescuing his grandmother. Only after Deanna is dead and Azazel is out of reach and on his way to make his pact with Mary do I take my foot off the weapon and my sister releases the righteous man.

Invisible and silent, my sister and I witnessed the events from close-up, monitoring now and then to make sure that they went according to plan. Destiny is ruthless, and we have been its efficient tools.

I have knowingly worked to make happen the tragedy that destroyed the Winchesters. That sent Dean into Hell.

"Castiel..."

I silence my sister with a hand gesture, my eyes fixed on Dean who, Colt in hand, is running out of the house, desperately trying to save his family again.

"Now I understand more clearly the purpose of this mission.," I say in a murmur. "Dean wasn't the only one being manipulated."

Suddenly I see clearly what the real objective of my mission was, and it's not what I was told through Revelations. The objective was not to show Dean the events of the past, or even to uncover Azazel's secrets. No. The hierarchy sent us to the past so that we could bring Mary and Azazel together, so that the demon could lay his claim on her. Dean, in his desperate efforts to save his family, has unknowingly cast the curse on the Winchesters himself. This is what could be called the irony of fate, I suppose.

But Dean was merely a puppet in my hands. All I did was follow orders, but had I opted for insurrection, this family's tragic fate could have been avoided and the soldiers of the Garrison would not have died. With my own hands I forged Dean's Fate and brought misfortune upon both our families. In a way, I threw him into Hell myself, when I believed myself to be his savior.

I lower my eyes as Levanael stares at me intensely.

I never saved Dean in Hell. All I did was harvesting what I had sown in the past. This rescue mission that I led for forty years, filled with dedication and a sense of Duty... it was all for naught.

This isn't the first time I have actively acted as an agent of Fate, and obeying can be unpleasant at times. I remember experiencing regrets about the extinction of the Neanderthals, about Adam and Eve's death, watching Cain's tears, looking down at that small boat during the Flood or when we had to cast death as a punishment for Pharaoh's unwillingness to obey. My list of regrets has only grown longer and longer over the millennia.

But never before had a mission's success carved such a hole inside of me.

oOo

I slowly lower my hand, which I kept outstretched towards the Colt to stop it if Dean had ever dared to shoot the demon. In my peripheral eye sight, John is coming back to life in Mary's arms, next to Samuel Campbell's empty carcass that Azazel has just vacated. Everything happened exactly as Fate intended. The fallen Cherub successfully obtained Mary's consent by murdering John and then promising to bring him back to life. A vicious and disloyal process to which even the vilest demons do not normally stoop.

Instead of the embraced couple, the righteous man's devastated expression is the focus of my attention. I cannot describe it. The sorrow in his eyes is so deep it is beyond my comprehension. Something unique to Humanity, something I will never quite be able to understand.

The suffering Dean is experiencing results from my loyalty to my Father. Suddenly, all arguments justifying my actions are meaningless. There is nothing left but those eyes bright with tears and the pain I indirectly inflicted.

To make the Human I raised from Hell suffer is the last thing I would ever want. But his Fate is sealed now, it's too late, far too late. Regret and compassion won't change a thing. The chance to sabotage the mission and stop the Apocalypse has passed and won't happen again. I fought the temptation like a faithful Soldier of the Lord, but I can't bring myself to be proud of it. I put all my trust in God's Plan, and I pray that I did the right thing. Surely my Father knows what He is doing and these injustices are part of a larger scheme that I am not aware of.

With a beat of my wings, I close the short distance between me and Dean Winchester and appear into physical reality, Levanael remaining silent and invisible at my side.

I lay my hand on Dean's shoulder as he turns to face me. When our eyes meet, his gaze only fuels my sympathy and guilt. While I spread my wings and reality melts around us, I allow my Grace to seep into his body and bring him into a deep dreamless sleep. His green eyes grow dim, soon clouded by his eyelids.

Time travel never is a pleasant experience. It consists of moving back in time as well as crossing great physical distances in order to reach the precise coordinates, taking into account the rotation of the planet around the sun and its correct axis on itself, according to several variable equations. Equations that grow more and more complex and unpredictable the further back in time we go. The slightest mistake, no matter how seemingly insignificant, might make me appear in space, or worse, in a planet's core. Basically, traveling back in time requires a mental and physical effort that draws heavily on my vital essence - honestly, it would be easier for me to just carry myself to another planet. I do not know if it is advisable for a Human to stay awake during such a delicate process - or if there are effects of time distortion and space flight to be feared. So, I have deemed it preferable for him to be unconscious.

The three of us appear back in the hotel room, just a few seconds after our estimated starting point. Dean instantly collapses, sound asleep, and I grab his waist with an arm to prevent him from falling to the ground. His inert body sags against my vessel, head resting on my shoulder until I carefully bring him down on his still warm bed.

"Cas..." whispers Levanael's voice behind me.

I lean over Dean to slide his leather jacket off his shoulders and take it off him. His eyelashes are fluttering and his breath brushes over my face as I stare at him unblinkingly.

"Little brother..."

I glance over my shoulder at my sister, cautiously laying Dean's head on the pillow before placing his jacket on his body, just like we found him.

"We have the same age, Levanael."

"I was created about an hour earlier than you. After Anna, I am the oldest in the Garrison. Siosp was the youngest."

"One hour means an insignificant amount of time in our lives."

"Not to me. I felt your creation in my Grace." Her smile is somewhere between fondness and teasing. "You're my little brother and nothing will ever change that. Not even your title or rank."

I turn to face my sister. She's watching me with her head tilted to the side.

"You may leave," I say. "You did a good job."

"Don't blame yourself for his misfortune, Castiel. You were just following orders."

With these words, she opens her wings wide so that they fill the entire room and even extend into the walls, then she disappears in a silky rustle of feathers.

I stand there for some time, staring at the wall, with my back to the righteous man. The quiet sound of his breathing fills the room, mingled with distant footsteps in the hotel hallway and the muffled rumble of cars on the street.

I have to stay and complete my mission. I could wake Dean right now, but... I need a moment of silence and reflection in this time of war. My Grace is drained out.

I turn my head to study the face of Adam and Eve's descendant. In a way, I do acknowledge and share the grief he expressed in his eyes, but Dean seems to be experiencing it on a completely different scale than I can't even comprehend. We celestial beings are unable to develop such feelings, which are so important to Humans throughout their brief existence. We were never created for this.

The righteous man's eyelashes flutter as he frowns. How the soul brings to life this organic mass of flesh, blood and skin covering human skeletons will always remain a mystery to me. Under normal circumstances, I would have been content to admire my Father's work of art, but not today.

By raising the righteous man from Hell, I thought I was saving him and offering him a new life, a second chance, but it turns out that all I did was play my part in bringing tragedy upon his family. Tragedy orchestrated by God down to the last detail. Both Hell and Heaven are striving to deceive him and make him suffer. He will probably not know peace until he dies. But then, will he have collected enough happy memories to rest for eternity? I hope so. Dean deserves to find serenity and felicity.

More than ever, the Lord's Plan is undecipherable to me. I hold on to my devotion, not without difficulty.

I avert my eyes, looking up at the wall in front of me instead. My brethren's whispers, flowing into my mind continuously, are not enough to quiet my thoughts.

Could it all have gone differently? No... It would have required me to disobey a direct order and fail a mission – the consequences would have been disastrous and I would have brought shame on the Garrison. There was nothing I could do. Dean had to go back to the past to sentence his family to death by trying to save them. The hierarchy used Dean's love for his parents to seal his Fate, without him even realizing it. It was a cruel order. An order I disapprove of and even find degrading. For not only did the hierarchy neglected to inform me about what was at stake, but even Azazel knew that we were there.

There is a sharp inhale behind me, a rustling, then the bed creaking that informs me that Dean has woken up.

"I couldn't stop any of it." His voice is hoarse and heavy with guilt. "She still made the deal. She still died in the nursery, didn't she?"

"Don't be too hard on yourself. You couldn't have stopped it."

The least I can do is to ease the guilt off the righteous man's heart. The sooner he understands that every element of his life was orchestrated by Fate long before he was born, the less he will suffer. Fighting is pointless. Hoping is vain.

At least Dean doesn't seem to have realized his role in his family's misfortunes.

There is no choice. No freedom. Everything is just an illusion, a veil that parts to reveal the ugly truth the higher you are in the celestial hierarchy. I don't even dare to imagine what the Archangels and Father know that I don't.

I can hear Dean getting up in a creaking sound of bed.

"What?"

"Destiny can't be changed, Dean." I finally turn to face him. "All roads lead to the same destination."

And I know now for sure that the war I'm fighting is already lost. If it is written that the Cage shall be opened and the Apocalypse shall descend again upon the Earth, that is how it will be. I understand now why the hierarchy never backed me in my mission. Why my soldiers are dying. Why I am losing.

The Apocalypse is coming, and there is nothing I can do but accept it and place my blind trust in Father. The Father I have never seen or understood. And in Dean, who will be the only one who can stop Lucifer, even though I still don't quite see how that is possible.

"Then why'd you send me back?"

"For the truth. Now you know everything we do."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean snarls, clearly on edge.

I pointedly glance at Sam Winchester's empty bed to make him notice his absence.

"Where's Sam?" asks Dean with a concern in his voice.

"We know what Azazel did to your brother. What we don't know is why – what his endgame is. He went to great lengths to cover that up."

Given the ugly reality that this mission has exposed for me, I can't help thinking that the hierarchy knows more about it than they pretend.

Dean's face hardens into a mask of determination - a soldier's expression.

"Where's Sam?" he asks again, but this time in a threatening tone.

"425 Waterman."

Dean glares and walks past me. I can hear him getting ready to exit the room. I hope his intervention will have a positive effect on Sam. I don't want to be the one to kill his little brother on top of having brought the curse on his family.

"Your brother is headed down a dangerous road, Dean, and we're not sure where it leads. So stop it." I turn to look at him to make my threat clear. "Or we will."

I hold his gaze filled with anger and terror. I know how deeply the righteous man is attached to his brother, and I can tell from his reaction that he will stop Sam, the boy with demon blood, whatever the cost. If Dean's role was to break the first seal, what is Sam's role? He's the last human with demon blood still alive on Earth, and the powers he's gaining must have some purpose...

oOo

In the next chapter

"How did it come to this, Uriel?"

"Things have changed."