Previously: After he refused to threaten Dean, Castiel was downgraded and is on probation. Uriel is in command in the meantime. Together, they find Anna and try to kill her, but she escapes and retrieves her Grace. Castiel makes Dean torture Alastair, but the demon breaks free of the devil trap. Dean and Castiel are saved by Sam who effortlessly kills Alastair. Castiel gets suspicious of Uriel who turns out to be the traitor when Castiel confronts him. To protect Castiel, Anna kills Uriel, but still Castiel won't join her now that he has found his Faith back.

This chapter takes place in season 4 episode 16.

White lies

"Oh come on, don't be silly! Of course we're not going to send you to rehabilitation or reassign you to another division! Quit the pity party, believe me, it's really annoying."

As he pats my shoulder, Zachariah gives me a patronizing smile and directs me to the chair facing his desk. I obediently let him sit me down, my wings stiff behind my back.

"I made a serious mistake that got eight of my soldiers dead, a prisoner killed and Michael's sword endangered. I misjudged Uriel and put all my trust in him, it's entirely my fault that dozens of seals have been broken."

He takes his seat behind his desk and dismisses Lavavoth with a wave of his hand – she immediately flies away, leaving us alone in the office.

"Well," Zachariah says in a conciliatory tone. He crosses his fingers over his stomach contentedly, bobbing his head with a hint of a smile curving his lips. "You did have a traitor in your midst who was ruining your work, these things happen to even the best of us. Our Lord Himself failed to see Lucifer's disloyalty before he refused to bow down to Adam and Eve, didn't He? No one will hold this against you. I'll personally make sure of it with the Council. You are, after all, under my guidance."

"But..."

"No buts! This is very good for your career and your advancement, in fact. You tracked down and eliminated one of Lucifer's minions, single-handedly stopped a rebellion, saved the righteous man and killed the King of Hell - so look on the bright side: this is a victory. A glorious, complete victory. I knew it from the moment you stood and watched the Neanderthals perish, hundreds of thousands of years ago: you're a valuable asset."

This is no victory for me, and Zachariah's words of praise leave me with a sour feeling. Nothing will ever bring back my dead brothers and sisters murdered for being so loyal. Nothing will restore the broken seals. Nothing.

"I still don't understand how could Uriel stray so far from the right path..." I say in a quiet, hoarse voice, looking down at my hands without really seeing them.

On the desk lies the blade of my dead brother - the blade he never once tried to use against me. He could have killed me at any moment, he had the upper hand. Why didn't he just slay me like he did to Levanael, Pmox, Miz or Ephra?

"Who knows what goes on inside a rebel's head! It doesn't matter, now that you've removed the threat and struck a blow to the demons by taking down their leader. You can resume your position without anyone questioning your right to be in charge. There are still some silly rumors about your feelings running around, but, well, you know our Family. A bunch of gossipers, really, the lots of them."

I look up in surprise.

"I am to take back the command of the Garrison?"

I didn't lie to Zachariah about Uriel and Anna. Or at least, not entirely - only by omission. I merely stated a rough summary of what happened and failed to mention Anna's and Sam's contribution. I also failed to report the entire Garrison's betrayal and allowed Zachariah to assume that Uriel was the only traitor to the Mission. The truth is, all my soldiers betrayed me to follow Uriel.

Every single one of them.

And if I were to denounce them, they would undoubtedly be sent to rehabilitation or even executed, and I simply can't stand to have any more of my brothers die because of me.

"Of course you are." Zachariah arches a patronizing eyebrow. "You were on probation while the investigation was going on, but that's all cleared up now. I expect everyone to realize that the disgusting rumors about you and Dean Winchester were just dirt spread by Uriel to undermine you. There is no doubt about your reliability anymore."

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea..." I avert my eyes. "After what happened..."

"Well, what's your problem now?"

I clench my fists on my knees as I search for the right words. I have no desire to go back to the Garrison and command my brothers and sisters knowing that every last one of them has not hesitated to turn their backs on me, to plot Lucifer's return and let the Council accuse me of feelings, insult me, humiliate me and then demote me in front of them.

But I can't breathe a word of this to Zachariah, I can't tell him that I'd rather be reassigned than go back to those traitors, so I fall back on another truth.

"I... am not fit to command an army, Zachariah. I'm a soldier."

"Now, now, don't underestimate yourself! Aside from that little incident of Lucifer's minion among your soldiers, you did a fine job. I recommended you for this position myself and had to call in some favors for you to have it, so be a good boy and make me proud. Don't make me regret all I did for you. But if this is the only way to get you motivated: that's an order, Castiel."

"Alright," I say, standing up from my chair. "I'm going to summon the Garrison to change the strategy to protect the seals, then send a unit to raid Hell while the enemy is weakened, and..."

"Tsk tsk." Zachariah cuts me short, shaking his finger. "The war will have to wait for a bit, one or two more seals to break won't make any difference, right? I have a quick assignment for you first, which falls under your role as Winchester's Guardian. This will get you right back on track." Zachariah leans back into his seat and plants his feet on his desk, crossing his ankles. "The end is nigh, Castiel, let's be real. We need to address the possibility of failure, and therefore get Michael's sword ready. He will be essential to us when the Apocalypse begins, and we have to make sure that he will say yes to the Archangel and won't waste his time."

I tilt my head in confusion.

"Dean is in the hospital right now. He's been badly injured by Alastair. Is this really the right time to reveal to him his purpose in this world, and the fate that awaits him and his brother?"

"No, of course not, just give him a rough explanation of the situation. The usual pitch we give to vessels, you know: important mission, great honor, fate of the world at stake, blah blah blah. See how he reacts to the idea that the fate of Humanity rests on his shoulders, and then report back to me immediately. The hierarchy is getting worried and they are asking me for results. We have to take care of our assets, and Dean is the product of thousands of years of planning."

I nod and spread my wings with a hushed rustle. In an energetic flap, I leave Heaven to fly down to Earth.

oOo

"Hello?"

Sam's voice sounds weary as he brings his phone to his ear, phone that has been ringing only in his mind.

« Sam, I need to talk to you right now. »

Caught in my auditory illusion, he believes he's actually hearing the female voice and he springs to his feet, glancing at his unconscious brother on the hospital bed. Dean's wounds show distinctly on his pale skin as the machines around him beep steadily.

Invisible and quiet, I hold my fingers firmly to Sam's forehead as he nervously runs a hand through his hair.

"Ruby!" he whispers, gripping the phone tightly in his hand. "Where the hell were you? Alastair is dead, and... Dean is in a coma. The doctors are saying that he's brain-dead and they want to pull the plug! I don't know what to do, help me!"

I squint as I let my Grace play with Sam's mind, imprinting the demon's voice in his ear.

« I've been busy in Hell, it's been crazy down there! I've some info you need to hear. I'll be waiting in the coffee shop around the corner. »

"Wait! I can't leave Dean alone! Why won't you come and talk here?"

This is so frustrating – I need to get Sam out of there right away so I can talk to Dean. Zachariah is waiting for my report, and every minute wasted is a minute lost to heal Dean and get back to fighting demons.

« With all the angels watching over your brother right now? It's too risky! »

"The angels don't give a shit about Dean!" Sam hisses angrily. "Or they would already have healed him instead of leaving him to die!"

Now that's offensive. I'm doing all I can to protect Dean and save them both from the tragic end that Fate has planned for them. And no one acknowledges or appreciates my hard work, as usual.

« Hurry up. I'll be switching to another flesh suit to keep a low profile - I'll be a man in leather boots with a beard and a glass of whiskey in my hand. I'll pretend not to recognize you at first, I'm being watched. »

"What? But.. Ruby! Wait!"

I know my humor isn't very good - or at least not as good as Uriel's - but I can't help smirking as I imprint on Sam's mind the sound of a phone hanging up.

He lets out a curse and grabs his jacket to rush out of the hospital room, leaving me alone with Dean. I lower my arm and turn to look at him.

There is a tube shoved down his throat, connected to a machine that helps him breathe. I can barely recognize his face beneath the wounds and swollen bruises - wounds inflicted by a demon as powerful as Alastair are deadly. He did manage to damage my Grace by breaking my vessel. The effect on a common Human such as Dean is quite severe.

As I materialize into physical reality, I reach out and touch his skull, which is covered in bloodied bandages - my Grace seeps into his body, exploring every inch of him down to the last hair-thin blood vessels, sliding into torn arteries, broken bones, and damaged heart. I've rebuilt this body from rotting bones and flesh before, so to me this is surprisingly easy to do.

The tube and bandages vanish as my Grace stitches the broken skull back together, restores his brain cells by reconnecting the synapses, and heals most of his internal wounds - but more importantly, my Grace dives deep inside him to curl around his soul. A darkness has begun to grow there like mold on a fruit, vicious and rampant. I wash off the festering stain, restoring his soul to its purity, then withdraw my energy from his body. My fingers brush against his forehead as I withdraw them.

There are still some swollen bruises, but I don't think I should heal him completely. Zachariah never ordered me to, so to be safe, I left some minor damage on his body - just enough so that the hierarchy won't blame me for taking the initiative. This really isn't the time to get a notice, considering how insecure my situation is.

I sit down on the chair still warm from Sam's body heat, and listen as the righteous man's breathing gradually changes, indicating that he's about to wake up.

I feel oddly calm and unaffected by the betrayal of my entire Garrison. All the bonds I have formed with my siblings over thousands or millions of years have been severed by death or treason, but at least now everything is clear. My doubts have vanished and I found peace within myself. My restored Faith fills the void caused by the betrayal of my soldiers.

The Mission is the only thing that matters. I am the General of the Garrison. I am the Winchester Guardian. I am the protector of Humanity.

My duty is to stop the Apocalypse. And should I fail, I know that the Winchesters will go to Heaven after everything they will have to endure as vessels. I will be there to welcome them. They will be at peace and happy for eternity in the lands of the Lord.

Dean opened his eyes - I can feel it through my feathers brushing against his face.

"Are you alright?" I ask quietly, staring into the distance.

"No thanks to you," Dean replies hoarsely after a silence.

I fight the urge to inform him that I healed him, that without me he wouldn't even be able to think, let alone talk. But I keep it to myself - that would be pure vanity, as a Guardian I am supposed to work in the shadows and not expect anything in return. Angels are not entitled to thanks or gratitude for their actions, for we only do what we are ordered to do.

"You need to be more careful," I say instead.

If it hadn't been for Alastair's breaking free from the trap, Dean would probably have sullied his soul to the point where I wouldn't have been able to purify it anymore. It has been weakened in Hell, where I almost came too late to intervene. Now, such vile delights in cruelty are likely to damn his soul forever, and I won't always be at his side to save him from himself.

Had Uriel killed me, I wonder if the hierarchy would have assigned Dean a new Guardian. Just thinking about it fills my Grace with a surge of anger. I am the one and only Guardian of the righteous man and no one will ever take my Mission away from me.

"You need to learn how to manage a damn devil's trap," Dean replies in a dull voice.

I draw my wings back, and my feathers brush against the righteous man's body. I won't let this unfounded accusation bother me - my trap was perfect, and without Uriel's assistance, Alastair would never have been able to break it.

"That's not what I mean," I say, laying my eyes on him.

Dean doesn't need to know how close he came to damnation. What I have to tell him will be hard enough for him to bear. And clearly it's hard for me too, considering how reluctant I am to get to the point.

"Uriel is dead."

"Was it the demons?"

"It was disobedience."

I try to shut out the sorrowful churning of my Grace in my vessel. Uriel had his flaws and I never condoned his inclination for violence and destruction. But he was my brother - the one I was the closest to for millions of years. His death leaves a void inside me, but not understanding is even worse. Because I don't. I don't understand what made my brother wish for Lucifer's return, what drove him to slaughter his own family to save them.

I don't understand.

And maybe that's why I'm sharing this confidential information with a Human. I have no one to talk to. The whole Garrison betrayed me and the only faithful ones are dead.

I'm alone.

I turn my head to Dean who is looking at me with half-opened eyes, clearly numb from the injuries I left him with.

"He was working against us," I add as an explanation.

I don't know what I expect from Dean. What I hope to find by talking to him. I know he doesn't have the answers to my questions. Maybe I just need someone to listen to me without constantly reminding me that orders are orders and that the Lord works in mysterious ways.

Dean averts his eyes, looking down in silence. When he opens his mouth again, it's to address the very issue I couldn't bring myself to talk about, the reason why Zachariah sent me here instead of sending me back to war.

"Is it true? Did I break the first seal?"

I just watch him, at a loss for words. I was hoping to inform him of his role very gently, but it seems that Alastair beat me to it. I can't imagine what the demon told him, but from the devastated look on Dean's face, it was probably in the crudest and most brutal way possible.

"… Did I start all this?" he asks, choking on his words.

"Yes." Dean averts his eyes as I try to explain objectively what I am allowed to reveal. "When we discovered Lilith's plan for you, we laid siege to hell and we fought our way to get to you before you—"

"… Jump-started the apocalypse," he finishes for me in a broken voice.

I suppress a sigh, thinking back to my first major expedition as General of the Garrison. If only I had realized earlier that we were battling small fry and that the demons were playing us, if I had searched for the gate right at the entrance instead of deep in the dimensions we had explored and cleared... maybe I could have saved Dean in time.

Dean should not blame himself. Either it was my own negligence that allowed this to happen, or it was Fate and absolutely nothing could have changed that if it was written. We fought hard, we searched Hell over and over again to no avail. I can't tell if the thought of fatality - about the death of my most loyal siblings and the terrible weight on the righteous man's shoulders - is comforting or even more painful.

"And we were too late."

"Why didn't you just leave me there, then?" Dean asks angrily.

"It's not blame that falls on you, Dean, it's Fate."

I knew that from the moment I stormed into Hell with the Garrison. There were only three possible outcomes to our mission: to wander forever in Hell looking for him, to save Dean Winchester before he sullied his soul, or to arrive too late, and bring him back to the surface as a weapon to stop the Apocalypse. I had refused to even consider the possibility of Dean becoming a demon in a permanent way and the failure of the mission.

"The righteous man who begins it is the only one who can finish it," I quote then look him straight in the eye. "You have to stop it."

Dean stares at me in horror - and for a second, I can see the same kind of expression in his eyes that he had as a child when he was running out of his burning house.

"Lucifer?" he whispers weakly. "The apocalypse? … What does that mean?"

I've said enough. I've completed my mission. I slowly spread my wings and they fill the hospital room, extending into the walls. There's nothing left for me to do here - I have to deal with an army of traitors and a war to save Dean from the probability I've just revealed to him. And I have to report back to Zachariah.

"Hey! Don't you go disappearing on me, you son of a bitch!" hisses Dean furiously, even though he's stuck on his hospital bed. "What does that mean?!"

"I don't know," I deflect, and I can't bring myself to look at him.

I still haven't been allowed to tell him about his role as Michael's sword. And in a way, I'm not lying: except for that piece of information, I don't know anything. I don't understand the hierarchy's decisions. The Council keeps everything to themselves, and at my rank, age and level, all I can do is to obey without thinking.

There will always be time to tell him if I do fail to protect all the seals.

"Bull!"

"I don't. Dean, they don't tell me much. I know our fate rests with you."

"Well, then you guys are screwed." It's oddly painful to watch his eyes fill with tears. "I can't do it, Cas," he chokes in a broken whisper. "It's too big. Alastair was right. I'm not all here. I'm not—I'm not strong enough."

He doesn't realize that the tips of my feathers are brushing against his hair. His chin is quivering and a tear rolls down his cheek. Levanael would probably have found the right words. I have no idea what to say so I stay silent, struggling with emotions I can't seem to contain when it comes to Dean.

"Well, I guess I'm not the man either of our dads wanted me to be. Find someone else. It's not me."

Hundreds of sentences are running through my head while Dean looks away, silently fighting the tears that keep streaming down. But none of them seem right. Words are pointless. The best I can do now for Dean is to notify Zachariah about his weakened mental health, and go back fighting for him.

I silently fly back to Heaven.

oOo

The entire Garrison is summoned for a crisis meeting, room 1469.

With my elbows resting on the smooth surface of the oval table, I open my eyes again, letting the echo of my voice spread through the celestial channels. I lay my chin on my joined fingers and sweep my eyes across the empty room. The walls, the floor, the ceiling, the table, the seats... everything is equally white and bathed in light, just like all meeting rooms in Heaven.

It's been months since I set foot in one of these rooms - ever since Brap claimed the one that was assigned to me, and he's not even using it, since he's also been following the trend I unwillingly initiated by occupying the Human Paradises.

There is a ruffling of feathers but I sit still as a stone, barely even glancing at the first Angel to answer my call.

Out of breath and her blonde hair slightly disheveled, Hester folds her wings, eyes bright and shoulders stiff. Catching her breath, she fixes her suit as she stares at me excitedly.

"Castiel..." she breathes out, a smile lighting up her face. "Oh, thank God, you're alive! I've been so, so scared!"

I frown, filling my aura with the cold rage boiling inside of me.

"Be quiet and take a sit, Hester."

Hester complies, flopping down on the closest seat to me, and leans in, seeking my gaze with her wings down.

"Castiel, please let me explain. I did hear your call for backup earlier when you were fighting Alastair, but I couldn't come to your rescue because..."

"I said be quiet," I hiss through clenched teeth as I finally meet her eyes. "I don't want to hear a single word from you, Hester. I know everything. Uriel told me. Anna too. The fact that you alerted her so she would help me in no way diminishes your betrayal."

Eyes widening, she opens her mouth but a rustle of feathers cuts her short. She turns her head to glance at Balthazar who is casually smoothing his ethereal wing.

"Well well, Cassy..." His smile draws thin lines at the corner of his eyes. "There's quite the hype going on about you, you know, you're all over Heaven's big news. The simpletons from the Wind Division have been harassing me with questions about you."

Unlike Hester, my quiet anger and the severity of the situation don't seem to affect him. He plops down near our sister, shamelessly planting his feet on the table. He looks at ease and yawns while stretching his wings, hands crossed at the back of his neck.

"Don't you ever take anything seriously, Balthazar?" I say in frustration.

"Oh but I do. Only what really matters, though."

Before I can say anything, a bunch of my soldiers appear in a concert of flapping wings. Zedekiel casts a nervous glance at me, surrounded by Rachel, Htmorda and Virgil. Soon the meeting room is filled with hushed complaints as my soldiers bump into each other and squabble over the last few vacant seats. Over a hundred Angels are left standing in the confined space around the oval table. There are not enough seats or space, but I don't care if they are uncomfortable.

Silence falls when I rise and stare down at them.

"You all heard Zachariah's announcement earlier. Uriel betrayed Heaven and paid for his disobedience with his life. Which means..." I raise my chin and let a few seconds of silence linger. All eyes are on me. "… I get my rank back and resume command of the Garrison." Many soldiers share glances and I see wings twitching, indicating nervousness. "But that is not why I have gathered you here. Not even to ask why you didn't come when I requested backup to fight Alastair. I know exactly why none of you bothered to help me."

"Cas..."

With just a look, I make Zedekiel shut up as he had started to stand up, his blond hair partly veiling his face. He sits back down, staring at me wide-eyed.

"I know all of you betrayed our Mission to join Uriel in his insane quest to free Lucifer. You've been sabotaging our chances of winning this war for months. It all makes sense now, that's why the demons managed to break the seals in spite of my strategy, that's why the seals were breaking increasingly fast."

"Castiel," Rachel raises her voice. "You don't understand... We had no choice."

The leather jacket Htmorda is wearing creaks as he leans over the table, staring at me sternly, but the turmoil in his aura shows his fear - the entire meeting room is buzzing with silent dread.

"We did commit treason," he admits quietly. "That's true. And for what it's worth, Castiel, there isn't a day when I don't regret the decision I made to say yes to Uriel. Not because I betrayed you, not even because our brothers died, but because I lost sight of our true purpose." He runs a hand over his face and beard, sighing as he gestures to the rest of the Garrison. "They are not as much to blame as Zedekiel, Rachel, and I. They have only recently been transferred to our ranks. We, the original Garrison, were created by God for the sole purpose of protecting Humans. We should never have forgotten that. Never. And there is nothing we can do to change that."

"Hey!" Zedekiel hisses, having become pale and agitated. "No need to drag me down too! In my defense, I had never seen Uriel so brutal, and I will confess that in the moment I panicked and agreed to whatever he wanted!"

"Coward!" Rachel snorts. "At least I made my decision knowingly, and I wouldn't have hesitated to confront Uriel if I had disagreed with him. Because you have to admit, he was right about a lot of things."

"So what, I should have let myself be killed for honor? I'll have you know that I'm glad I'm alive to feel shame! Better to be a coward than dead!"

"Oh for Heaven's..." Hester slams her fists on the table. "LET'S GET THIS OVER WITH!" She rises to her feet, gritting her teeth, and glares at me. "Castiel, if you're going to execute us, stop with the foreplay and DO IT ALREADY!"

I frown, digging my hands into my coat pockets and sharing an intense look with my sister - I don't know if I can call her that anymore. No Angel in this room is worthy of it. I have no brothers and sisters. I no longer have a family.

"I'm not going to send you to execution," I say in a hoarse, dispassionate voice.

"So you're going to send us to rehabilitation instead..." Zedekiel whispers fearfully.

I narrow my eyes and let a silence linger.

"I won't send you to rehabilitation either," I say bitterly, "since I have not deemed productive to report you all to the hierarchy. I saw far too many of our brothers and sisters die in the last few months, and I'd rather keep my army when I need it most to prevent the Apocalypse. I covered for you even though you don't deserve it. I deceived the hierarchy to save you despite your disobedience, but rest assured that at the slightest slip, at the slightest suspicion of treason, I won't hesitate to denounce you."

My anger is aimed both at my army of traitors and at myself - for not only did I not see this coming and failed to see Uriel's intentions, blinded as I was by my trust in him, but even worse, I don't understand how any of this could happen. I can't trust anyone anymore. No one in my own family.

I've never been so utterly alone.

"I will notify you of our new strategy and your new stations in a few moments via the celestial channels," I conclude wearily "Dismissed."

My soldiers spread their wings and disappear immediately. I catch a glimpse of Hester's bright eyes staring at me dejectedly. The next moment, she is gone with the rest of the Garrison.

"Champagne?"

There is a loud popping noise to my left, and I turn to see that Balthazar is still there, and has just opened a bottle.

"Why are you still here, Balthazar? I commanded you all to leave and go back to your positions."

Balthazar raises his eyebrows mockingly and ignores my order to pour the sparkling golden liquid into two crystal flutes.

"Yes, I heard, I'm not deaf yet. Just tell me one thing, Cassy..." He holds out one of the two glasses to me. "Have you ever seen me obeying orders outside of the battlefield?"

I reluctantly remove my hand from my pocket to take the glass. Fine bubbles rise to the surface with a slight fizzling sound.

"I wonder how I ever expected anything else from you," I murmur, fighting back a smile.

Draping his arm over my shoulder, he clinks our glasses and grins at me.

"You've been cleared of all suspicion, you're back in charge and all the Council members are going to get on your good side now. Let's celebrate!"

He takes a sip appreciatively and motions at me with his chin to invite me to do the same. I frown at the liquid - I still don't get what Balthazar and the Council Angels enjoy so much about human food. It's unnecessary and totally pointless, given that our Grace keeps the vessel unchanged and spares us the tedious organic process that mortals are plagued with.

Still, I bring the glass to my lips under Balthazar's pleased gaze and he releases my shoulders after one last pat. Then I empty the glass in one gulp and the liquid pours down my trachea to my stomach.

"You're unbelievable. Downing a vintage like this one as if it were some cheap beer from the mall? Such poor taste... Did you even get to savor the outstanding and refined flavor enhanced by the refreshing and fine bubbles? That was one of the greatest crus on Earth, you know? I fetched it from France specially."

"Tastes bitter," I say, placing the empty glass on the table.

He smiles at me with a soft look in his eyes.

"I haven't seen much of you since I gave you that flesh suit. Do you feel comfortable in it? I hope good old Jimmy isn't too tight for you."

"He contains me. That's good enough for me."

"This is only a temporary thing. Once Claire is fully grown, you'll own Heaven's hottest vessel. Even the Archangels will envy you."

I turn my eyes to my brother who is propping his ass up on the table edge while refilling his glass.

"Balthazar... Why?"

No need to clarify. Balthazar knows fully well what I'm referring to, I can see it in his eyes.

"Why did I follow Uriel rather than heroically fight him and die like a martyr? That's what you mean?"

I nod, concealing my surprise - I was prepared for mockery, for some sassy retort before he would try to deflect. Instead, his smile has faded and he's staring at me with a kind of earnestness I've rarely seen from him in thousands of years at his side.

"You know, Cassy..." He takes a sip from his glass, his eyes far away. "I was created during the Fourth War, in the heart of the battle against the Forsaken. I was the perfect obedient soldier for a few thousand years - don't look at me like that, it's offensive - before I realized a hard, factual truth. There will always be wars, Apocalypses and tragedies. I have long since learned not to be foolish enough to pick a side or have opinions. And if you want my advice, you should do the same. You're taking all of this way too personally, brother."

I clench my fists, my wings twitching.

"No matter how many words you wrap around it, a betrayal is a betrayal, Balthazar. The fate of Humanity is at stake here! Through cowardice, contempt or self-interest, you all have doomed the species we were meant to protect!"

"Hmm..." Balthazar thoughtfully takes a sip. "You know, I did say yes to Uriel to tell him what he wanted to hear, but I knew that with his attitude he wouldn't last long. All Angels who have been foolish enough to get too deeply involved with a species or purpose have paid a very high price. True, if the human species goes extinct, I will miss my work with the vessels and all their entertaining fabrications. But Cas, you have to understand one thing: there is nothing permanent in Creation - species go extinct every day and one day the sun will explode, burning up this tiny planet. We will go somewhere else. We will have other missions. There will be other wars, we will watch everything our Father has created return to dust. And yet, we will still be here. Until the end of time and the Final Judgment. Trust my life long experience, there is nothing on Earth worth risking your eternity. Just do as I do, obey orders, do as little as possible, work your way through the bureaucracy and strive to get a nice, easy job."

I clench my teeth as I think of Dean, lying on the hospital bed with a devastated look in his eyes. He still has so many ordeals to endure if the Apocalypse happens, and they will end in tragedy. I can't imagine what he's going through right now - Zachariah told me that he's going to boost our couple of Archangel meatsuits' mood himself, and ordered me not to interfere.

"I can't do that," I say in a hoarse voice. "It's my Mission."

Balthazar steps from the table, leaving his glass and the half-full bottle behind.

"Very well, that's your choice. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have things to do somewhere for something."

He mimics some kind of military salute and flies away, leaving me alone to stare at the fine bubbles flowing up through the golden liquid.

My choice. Is it really? Am I even capable of making a choice when I know we are ruled by Fate and that this glorified free will is merely an illusion?

There's only one thing I know for sure. No matter how vile and treacherous they are, I want to save my family, and I want to spare Dean Winchester any additional suffering.

oOo

In the next chapter

"Ah, Castiel, you're just as pure and naive as they say you are. Did you assume that demons were sneaking into Heaven like ninjas to snatch souls? Have you never wondered how do demons grant all the wishes of Humans who sell their souls? No demon can step into Heaven and no soul goes missing without the patrolling troops noticing."