Previously: When Castiel finds out about Heaven's secret plan to unleash the Apocalypse by setting Lucifer free, he tries to rebel. The Garrison catch him as he was about to rescue Dean and Sam from the Angels' control. Sent to rehabilitation and expelled from Jimmy's body, Castiel is purged of his ideas of rebellion, of his feelings and doubts. When he comes out of it, Zachariah orders him to get a vessel and go break the last seals. However, Claire and Amelia are held prisoner by demons, and Castiel hasn't forgotten the promise he made to Jimmy to protect them. So he possesses Claire and waits in her body for Jimmy, Dean and Sam to come, so he can protect everyone.

This chapter takes place in season 4 episodes 20 & 21.

oOo

Rising to the top

"Listen, I'm..." Jimmy Novak's voice rises, faltering with fear. The place reeks of sulfur and I can feel the dark energy of minor demons moving in the shadows. "I'm begging you here. You do whatever you want with me, but my wife and daughter, they're just – they're not a part of this."

I can feel every single vibration across the concrete floor, even through the soles of the shoes I'm wearing. Amelia's heels hit the ground as she walks towards my former vessel. There is no need for me to open my eyes. I can see everything so clearly.

"Oh, they're a big part of this, Jimmy. And P.S. You should've come alone."

"I am alone," he uneasily replies.

"Oh, you're such a liar. Like I didn't think you'd bring Heckle and Jeckle, hmm?"

Shoving Jimmy aside, the demon strides toward Sam and Dean - there are three demons dragging them in by their clothing. The air shifts and subtle variations in the energy flows convey their exact location. Two demons for Sam, one for Dean - considering their fighting skills, the situation will be easier to handle than I expected. Securing the Winchester brothers will be an easy task, the only tricky part will be to extract the demon possessing Amelia out of her body without killing her in the process.

"Nice plan, Dean," Sam's voice rises over their ragged breathing.

"Yeah, well, nobody beats 1,000," rationalizes the elder Winchester.

"Got the knife?" asks the demon implanted in Amelia's body.

With just a thought, I heighten my senses and see the scene through my closed eyelids – my vision is tinged with red and laced with veins and particles floating in the fluid in my eyes. I can see a demon showing off the demon-killing dagger with a smug grin. My energy is boiling in my new body, meeting the slightest of my needs. Absolute control.

"And you know what's funny?" smiles the demon, feeding on the certainty of victory.

"You, wearing a soccer mom?"

"Is I was actually bummed to get this detail, picking up an empty vessel." Amelia's voice goes on jubilantly. "Sort of like a milk run. Now look who landed in my lap."

Perhaps I could just neutralize her and urge her to leave this body. But I have no time to waste on such things. I have orders to obey and an army to lead.

As long as Amelia and Claire stay alive and safe, my promise to Jimmy will be honored. It doesn't matter if Claire contains an Angel and Amelia a demon, Jimmy never stipulated otherwise in the oath he made me swear.

"Yeah, well," Sam mumbles, "you got us, okay? Let these people go."

I need to pick the right moment to complete my mission here. Smiting the demons before Amelia's eyes might be enough to get her out of this body. All that matters is that I can't let anyone figure out that I can't kill her in this shell. I am bound by my word.

Slowly, I unfurl my ethereal wings behind my back, lighter than they ever were, and wait for an opening.

"Oh, Sam..." mocks the demon. "It's easy to act chivalrous when your Wonder Girl powers aren't working, huh?"

I feel Jimmy's fearful gaze on me. I sit still, studying his figure through the red filter of my eyelids. My former vessel looks, from the outside, significantly less fitting and harmonious than the one I now inhabit. His blue eyes are staring at me helplessly and his fists are clenched.

"Now for the punch line. Everybody dies."

The demon's cold voice draws Jimmy Novak's gaze away from me. He turns back to his possessed wife, with a lost and vulnerable look.

The clicking sound of the trigger. The blast of a gunshot tears through the silence, and Jimmy Novak falls to his knees, shaking. The coppery smell of blood floods my senses as I wrap Claire's screaming soul in my Grace and shut her up instantly.

While I vowed to protect Amelia and Claire, I never promised I would protect Jimmy himself. His survival is not essential.

It is probably better for him to die like this, now that he has fulfilled his mission, the reason for which he was born. He will go to Heaven as he deserves. At least he won't be captured and tortured by demons, nor will he have to live through the Apocalypse.

"Waste Little Orphan Annie," orders the demon without even sparing me a glance.

I look away from Jimmy who has collapsed on his flank, in painful agony – his head is turned to me, his eyes already glassy. A lesser demon is walking up to me, clueless as to his impending demise. Sam and Dean are now only restrained by one demon each. From a strategic point of view, this is the ideal moment to act.

Reaching through my wing without even realizing it, the demon bends down to pick up an iron bar that he grabs with both hands. When he strikes down on me with brutal strength, I snap my head up and single-handedly intercept his weapon while I slam my other hand on his forehead and propel a tiny fraction of my celestial energy into this corrupted body, obliterating every last molecule of impurity. The demon dies screaming, his orbits and all orifices bursting with pure light.

Charred from the inside, the body collapses to the ground and I barely glance at the soul floating away, waiting for a Reaper to guide it. I turn my eyes to the Winchester brothers who are fighting their respective demons, and with a thought I snap off the ropes tying me to the chair. Jimmy's gawks at me as I rise to my feet and hold his gaze with a calm anger.

Just like Dean, like all Humans, Jimmy has proven to be weak, selfish and ungrateful in his devotion to Heaven. All it took was one unanswered prayer and a few bumps on his path to break his Faith and assume that I wouldn't honor my word. Like a spoiled child who loses all trust and hope at the faintest hardship.

I am aware that my anger is mostly directed at myself. Jimmy Novak is nothing more than an ordinary mortal, a creature of free will, weak and free of responsibility. While I, as an Angel of the Lord, should never have wavered or doubted the orders. I should never have lost sight of the very reason why I exist.

I was made to obey. And I will.

"Castiel..." whispers the disbeliever, shaking all over.

I stare him down silently. I disliked the blasphemies he uttered while I was trying to save his wife and daughter, both insignificant in this war context, when billions of lives are at stake.

Dean and Sam Winchester are the only ones needed to start the Apocalypse.

I shift my gaze from Jimmy's shivering figure and focus on the Winchester brothers instead. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the demon possessing Amelia cowering into the shadows, but this isn't my priority for now. Sam looks to be winning the fight against his opponent, having just snatched the dagger from the demon's hand. Dean, however, is struggling. The demon hammers him with his fists and throws him to the ground, pinning him there to keep punching him in the face.

With a barely audible beat of my wings, I transpose myself next to Dean and slam my small hand on the demon's head. I push a surge of energy into him, wrecking his body from the inside, and by the time he collapses on Dean, I know that there is nothing left under his skin but a chunky soup of blood and shredded organs. The smell of copper and sulfur is overwhelming.

Still shielding himself with his forearms, Dean opens his eyes and looks up. He stares at me in awe and disbelief, an expression I had never seen on his face before.

"… Cas?!" he whispers hoarsely as he pushes himself up onto his shaky legs.

I look up to meet his gaze once he's standing - he appears even taller than when I was inside Claire's father's body. Looking down at me from head to toe, frowning in bewilderment.

"Why the hell are you in the girl, Cas?"

I break eye contact to watch Sam who pinned his demon to the ground and latched onto his neck, eagerly gulping down the sullied blood. I can see his aura growing darker by the second - and when he snaps his gaze up to us with his chin smeared with blood, his face twists into a wicked sneer, his cheeks hollowed out, eye sockets sunken in and a web of black veins running under his rotting skin. The expression on his face shifts back and forth between demonic and human.

Now I know the reason for all this. Questions that used to haunt me. I know where this is going. Sam's demise, his addiction to demon blood, all this was planned thousands of years ago. Fate worked hard to ensure that Dean would ultimately break the first seal, and that Sam would break the last one.

Sam stabs the demon to death and rises to his feet in one swift motion, extending a threatening hand toward us, casting a dark, tainted energy around. Dean flinches, clearly shaken from watching his brother engaging in his darkest vices. I'm not surprised by Sam's action. I have been tracking Amelia's demon movements, in case she willingly evacuates the body. Instead of fleeing or hiding any longer, the demon tried to attack us from behind - a risky move against an Angel of my rank and power - and Sam effortlessly immobilized her.

Dean sharply moves away, while I stand still and stare down at Amelia who falls to her knees at my feet, throwing up the thick black smoke the demon is made of. It dissolves into the ground, sent straight back to Hell.

Promise kept. Jimmy Novak's wife and daughter secured.

I walk around the now freed woman and step right up to my former vessel who, leaning against a wall, is shaking in his agony. His face is pale and dripping with cold sweat, blood oozing from his ruptured bowels, dripping onto the dusty ground. This Human's soul is pure, and without his trust and devotion, I wouldn't have been able to talk to Dean or efficiently fulfill my mission.

He doesn't deserve to be suffering any longer.

I kneel down and run my fingers through his sweaty hair. He looks up to me, eyes drowned in the throes of agony.

"Of course we keep our promises," I tell him. "Of course you have our gratitude. You served us well. Your work is done."

My voice rises clear as crystal, much closer to my real voice than the hoarse, distorted one I had through Jimmy's vocal cords. My former vessel's breathing is labored and I can hear blood gurgling in his throat - his gums are tainted red and his face is contorted in pain.

"It's time to go home now. Your real home. You'll rest forever in the fields of the Lord."

I take a deep breath and expand my aura, building a cocoon with my wings around him, ready to end his suffering and extract his soul from his dying body. I will guide him to Heaven myself, so that he finds his place up there. I will escort him, as Anna once did for her vessel Yael when she died of old age, back in the days when my fallen sister was still a good soldier.

"Rest now, Jimmy."

Instead of being soothed by my aura surrounding him, Jimmy stiffens, rejecting my guidance with all his soul. Eyes brimming with tears and despair, he struggles to prop himself up against the wall. Startled, I slightly part my wings away from him, receding my aura. Doesn't he wish to go to Heaven? Yet this is what all Humans long and hope for, to leave this life of sorrow and misery, to be freed from fear, hatred and disease... Many would go to any lengths to guarantee themselves everlasting bliss after death.

"No... Claire!" he chokes on his blood.

What is he so upset about? I am right in front of him, inside his daughter's body. I kept my promise, he can see that Claire is alive and safe. He knows firsthand that she can never be safer than with me. No matter how many times someone tries to kill her, no one will be able to do her any harm as long as I am inside her.

"She's with me now."

Instead of appeasing him, my words make him even more agitated and he lets out a low moan of pain. It is quite unpleasant to assist to Jimmy's agony and tears.

"She's chosen," I say to ease his mind. "It's in her blood, as it was in yours."

"Please, Castiel... Me... just take me... Take me, please."

His imploring voice breaks and his bloodied hand falls to the ground - the crimson stain on his white shirt grows larger by the second. Is he... Is he trying to spare his daughter the charge of being a celestial vessel by claiming it for himself?

Now this is inconvenient. I have no intention of giving up my optimal vessel, so perfectly suited to my Grace, to go back to this body that barely contains me and in which I find it much more difficult to efficiently control and regulate my energy, to travel in time or to use my voice.

"I want to make sure you understand," I explain to dissuade him. "You won't die or age. If this last year was painful for you, picture a hundred, a thousand more like it."

Struggling with his last dying strength, Jimmy grabs my arm with a bloodstained hand, glaring at me with fierce eyes burning with the love of a father.

"It doesn't matter," he hisses through clenched teeth. "You take me. Just take me!"

For a fleeting instant, I see in his blue eyes clouded by death, echoes of memories of everything I have witnessed in Humanity since the day I was created. From Eve's smile as she cradled Abel in her arms, to the tears and shouts of the Egyptians whose firstborn we slaughtered in their sleep... and so many, many other harrowing scenes of what I always believed to be my Father's finest work: family love.

I know I should refuse. There is no rational reason for me to willingly let go of a perfect vessel to reclaim a barely functional one, but... somehow I find myself yielding to the strain of an overwhelming feeling. I can hardly contain my Grace's stirring and force it to properly flow in my veins.

"As you wish," I finally give in.

Balthazar won't be happy that I'm wasting the gift he took so long to create for me.

I discard that thought and lean in to frame his cold face in my hands, forcing my entire being to pour into the veins, leaving the brain and all organs to gather in the fingertips. My five senses fade out as the wings recede until I sink back into my former vessel, seeping into the synapses to take control.

I heal the wounds and make the hole and blood on the shirt disappear in a split second. I remain stiff against the wall for a moment, while my wings, heavy and awkward, sprout out of my back. My thoughts feel sluggish, my Grace heavy and hard to control.

I can see again, but my vision is dimmer and not as sharp as what I experienced briefly through Claire's eyes. And just at this moment, my gaze meets hers. Scared and breathless, she veils her face behind her blonde hair, tears welling up in her eyes. I heave myself up, feeling slower and diminished in this vessel.

Jimmy's gratitude and sorrow trouble me even more as I walk past Amelia, and I mute it all by wrapping my Grace around his soul. I can't afford to get distracted in any way, it's hard enough as it is to find my composure back.

I thought I was rid of my flaw, my weakness, for good.

As I look back at Amelia who is holding Claire in her arms, tears streaming down her face, there is no question. That sharp pain in my heart, while dull and less severe than before... it's an emotion.

Did my rehabilitation fail to fix my flaws?

I fight back the rising sense of fear and turn to walk away. I know what an unsuccessful rehabilitation entails. I've seen for myself how it ends. Siosp's agonizing scream still echoes in my head after all these years, and I know that the day Anna is finally caught, she will be executed or worse.

If anyone finds out that my rehabilitation failed to remove my emotions and doubts, there will be no second chance for me. I will be immediately killed.

No... NO! I refuse to be the victim of this anomaly that Angels are not supposed to experience!

Maybe Baradiel was right after all. Maybe we are infected, contagious. Flawed.

All because of Humans.

"Cas, hold up."

I come to a halt, briefly tempted to just fly off on Dean, but that might give the impression that I'm unable to handle an interaction with him. So I turn around with a neutral attitude and stare straight into Dean's eyes, blanking out my thoughts. With his eyebrows furrowed, he stares back hard.

"What were you gonna tell me?"

For this Human, I almost lost myself and betrayed God, Heaven and the very purpose of my creation. I am an Angel of the Lord. And I will show my Family and my Father that I'm a good soldier. No matter how many emotions plague me, I will no longer sin in disobedience.

I will never make this mistake again.

"I learned my lesson while I was away, Dean. I serve Heaven, I don't serve Man, and I certainly don't serve you."

Surprise flashes across Dean's face. After one last glare, I turn on my heels and walk out of the building to make sure there are no other demons in the vicinity. I soon find that there is no longer any threat to the Winchester brothers and Jimmy's family. Smarter than the demon that possessed Amelia, they all fled when they understood that they were dealing with a superior being they couldn't defeat.

oOo

"I was told that Brap had booked room 1050 for the whole year," I say as I walk into the meeting room that was assigned to me when I assumed my position.

I grab the seat at the end of the large table around which my two hundred soldiers are settled, and sit down, glancing at Balthazar. He is leaning back in his chair with his feet crossed on the table. Raising his eyebrows, he stares up and down at me with a somewhat puzzled look on his face.

"Zachariah gave Brap quite an earful about his power abuse, I heard. Everyone in the administration is blabbering on about it now. So tell me, Cassy, what are you doing in this old, outdated thing? I left you in the most ergonomic vessel ever conceived, and you ditch it for this wreck?"

I look down at my vessel and smooth down my coat, shirt and tie, which is properly tied again - Jimmy knows how to handle that useless strip of blue fabric better than I do.

"I like the coat."

That's not why I took Jimmy back, but it isn't a lie either. This body may not be a perfect fit and the voice too deep... this piece of clothing that wraps around me is comforting, like a cocoon of wings protecting me. There's nothing rational about this sensation.

With that familiar scoffing attitude, Balthazar scrunches up his nose in disgust.

"That filthy old trench coat?"

"It's not dirty."

"There are more bacteria swarming on this thing than there are Humans on the surface of this planet. And it's out of fashion, too baggy, ill-fitting. If that's your thing, we can just throw on some trash rags on Claire, you won't feel the difference."

I stand up and slam my hands on the table, eyeing the entire Garrison authoritatively.

"I'll get straight to the point," I say in a powerful voice. "Orders have changed, and we now have exactly one day to complete an extremely important mission. I expect you to be obedient and keep your mouth shut. This is a secret mission and you are required to keep it that way."

Some of the soldiers share knowing glances, only dozens of them actually look like they have no idea what this is all about.

"You have until tomorrow to break four seals," I hold my head high, "so all that's left is the last one holding Lucifer in the Cage."

Zedekiel gasps.

"What?!"

I throw a sharp glare at my brother's vessel who tosses back his blond locks, gawking at me. Balthazar merely raises an eyebrow.

"The Apocalypse has to start as soon as possible, and we can't afford to wait for the demons to break them, there is no time. You will therefore do it yourselves and make the rest of Heaven believe that the demons are to blame and that we are fighting against them, but that we are powerless."

Zedekiel frowns and slowly stands up, fear mingling with anger in his eyes.

"What did they do to you in rehabilitation, Cas...? Did they fry your brain or something?"

"Those are the orders, Zedekiel. And orders are orders."

"Not when they make no sense!" Htmorda chimes in.

Rachel also rises to her feet, staring at me in shock and shaking her head, blonde hair swaying around her cheekbones.

"Castiel, what's going on? Who gave these orders? Do you realize that you're asking us to destroy a whole year's work?"

"And to doom Humanity, the very thing we're supposed to be protecting!" exclaims Zedekiel.

I stand up, fingers running over the table's smooth surface, then shove my hands into my trench coat pockets, quietly eyeing the three of them.

"Seize them."

Ten soldiers rush to their feet at my command and grab the three rebels. Rachel, Zedekiel and Htmorda are now staring at me in shock.

My footsteps echo in the silence as I walk up to them, my tie swaying on my chest until I stand before them.

"I was put back on the right path thanks to you," I say in a threatening whisper. "And to show my appreciation, I'm going to do you the same favor right now."

I turn my back on them as their eyes widen in alarm. Dark thoughts are clouding my Grace. While rehabilitation failed to remove my flaws and did nothing to stop free will and feelings from infesting me, at least my mind is clear now, purified, only ruled by the fear of God.

Rachel, Zedekiel and Htmorda are all members of the original Garrison and must be afflicted by the same illness. Perhaps my brothers and sisters can be cured of the contagion.

"Send them to rehabilitation."

They fly off, the beating of their wings raising the air, making the flaps of my trench-coat sway around my legs. I turn to look at the rest of the Garrison, who are staring at me with a range of expressions ranging from indifference to fear or disbelief. Baradiel has a frown on his face as if deep in thought while Hester's eyes are brimming with tears.

"Does anyone else feel like questioning my authority?"

oOo

The frog in Izraz's hand croaks, its throat swelling up to twice its size. My soldier stands still, eyes shut and eyelids twitching. His furrowed forehead is shaded by a short brown fringe, his shoulders squared by the cut of his black suit. Not a single fold out of place in his shirt, nor on his gray necktie.

"He is walking around the corner and has already pulled his shotgun out."

His voice is calm and composed as he opens his brown eyes. There are crinkles marking the skin at the corners of his eyes - his vessel probably was a Human who used to laugh a lot, and that face feels wrong for my soldier's neutral expression. The Frog, as Balthazar calls him.

"The process will start in a couple of second," I nod.

We share a look and I realize that I have to stop studying him so insistently. From the moment we stepped into that school in New York, I strived to focus on Zachariah's mission, on how important Destiny's plan is, and my purely executive function. I detailed down to the smallest detail of Izraz's nose, wings, frog, even his shoes - all so I wouldn't hear the happy laughter of the children around who cannot see us. All so I wouldn't lay eyes on their small figures. All so I wouldn't have to think about their innocent and young lives that are going to be crushed in the most brutal way. And this, right before our eyes and under our supervision. Because of the orders. Because of me.

Tables and chairs line up in the school refectory. Two little girls walk right through us and go sit with their trays, both giggling. I tear my eyes from their pigtails and smiling faces, and I hold up a hand to flick my wrist, locking the windows one by one as well as the emergency exits, all except the main entrance. No one notices the locks sliding in the happy chatter.

"He just walked through the school gate. Just like planned, no one tried to stop him or saw his weapon."

My hand drops limply to my side, my fingers brushing the fabric of my trench coat, and I look down to the floor - there is a French fry squashed there along with two green peas.

"Are you certain that this teacher meets the requirements to break the seal?" I ask, my wings clenching behind my back. "We can't afford to have this fail, or we'll have to start all over again in another city."

"No doubt about it, Castiel. I'm not nearly as skilled as you are at shaping and erasing memories, but I have quite a talent for stirring up the dark side in Humans. I dug deep into his soul: a rough childhood spent getting bullied in this very school, an abusive and alcoholic father, a lonely life devoted to religion... It was easy to increase his hatred and to make him believe that it was God's will."

I moisten my lips and bring two fingers to my temple, focusing on the information the Garrison soldiers are sharing.

"Hester's unit just broke the seal in Key West." I lower my hand. "Baradiel and Virgil are done in Alaska, but they had to start over fifteen times before they successfully blinded a Human in the exact manner that the seal required."

Izraz turns to look at me, his toad merging into his hand like sand, fusing with his skin as if it had never existed.

"Which means that there are only two seals left before the Apocalypse, apart from the one we are going to break here."

"I sent Mgam and Balthazar's unit to Eritrea to dry up the water sources and turn all drinking supplies into rust. As for the last seal... this is not something you will have to worry about. It is my personal mission."

"Here he comes," Izraz whispers, his gaze shifting to the canteen's main entrance.

Indeed, the doors slam open to let a disheveled man in, his eyes shadowed behind rectangular glasses sliding on his long nose. A stunned silence descends on the crowd of children who look up from their meals, smiles fading from their faces. Jaw clenched, the man grabs his shotgun and shoots the nearest child in the head. The blast shatters the silence, but not quite as much as the muffled thud of the small body collapsing to the ground, splashing it red.

"One," Izraz quietly states.

Horrified cries ring out, along with the clatter of chairs being knocked over and children running around, desperately looking for a way out. I hold out a hand and curl my fingers just enough to lock the front door, cutting off all retreat for the seal's victims - they pound on the door with their fists in vain, while others frantically try to open the windows. I look away, wrapping my Grace tight around Jimmy's soul.

66 children have to die here and now.

For orders are orders.

"Two..." my soldier keeps counting when the second shot is fired. "Three... Four... Five..."

I shut out any outside influence, clearing my mind to only focus on the doors and windows I keep locked, and Izraz's thread of voice counting the victims. The floor is littered with lifeless bodies, the air thick with primal fear as gunshots keep coming and coming.

Each second feels like an eternity. Only the thought that these children will go straight to Heaven and be free from this world of tears and blood hardens my determination.

The lives of Humans are filled with suffering, sorrow, hatred and doubts. It has always been so. The few years spent on Earth are merely a tedious process until they can find their rightful place in Heaven or Hell.

Human lives are not important.

"… Sixty-four... Sixty-five... Sixty-six!"

Together, we raise a hand to stop the man who was about to kill one more innocent. And together, we curl our fingers to compel him to turn his weapon against himself, shoving the smoking barrel into his mouth before firing, blasting his skull open in a splash of blood.

We both lower our hands as the seal breaks - and then I feel, horrified, my Grace darkening and my feathers crumbling and falling from my wings by handfuls. A glance at Izraz's wings is enough to tell me that he is affected in the same way by what we've just done. His white feathers turn to gray and crumble into dust, exposing the bone structure made of light.

We share a look, our feet coated in the blood of innocents, and he smiles at me in a way that is probably meant to be reassuring.

"Don't worry, this is just temporary. Breaking a seal is enough to damn a human soul, but we Angels are only briefly affected thanks to our link to Heaven. We're too pure of beings to be sullied by such a small thing. We would need to commit much more atrocities to corrupt our Grace. Our feathers are going to grow back right away. Look."

Indeed, as he spreads his wings, I see feathers of the purest white sprouting and fluffing out. I can feel mine growing back to normal.

"How did you know that?"

"I've been in the loop about God's plan for thousands of years, and this isn't the first seal I've helped break since I joined the Garrison."

This admission would certainly have enraged me before my rehabilitation. I don't care now. I break eye contact and scan the place, striving not to linger on the corpses lying on the ground, the coppery scent of blood and the scared cries of the children who are still alive. With a flick of my wrist I unlock the doors and windows.

"Mission completed. You are dismissed, Izraz."

And with these words, I take off in a flap of my wings to go and check the situation in Eritrea. I want this to be over as soon as possible. Let the Apocalypse come, let centuries and millennia pass, let all of this become merely another unpleasant memory in my life.

oOo

"Very well then. Let's begin this crisis meeting despite some absent prominent members. So please take place on the lounge chairs and enjoy your cocktails."

With my shoes firmly planted in the soft, warm sand, I cast a confused glance at the brightly colored canvas seats lining the beach facing the ocean. Zachariah, already lounging there with a drink in his hand, motions at me to sit down.

In my opinion, this Paradise is hardly appropriate for a crisis meeting in the context of the Apocalypse, but I have no word on the matter.

"I was assigned today to preside over the Council. We have a couple of promotions and new members, so I'll introduce myself for those who don't know me: my name is Ecanus, I'm the commander of the wind and storm division, and I've been a member of the Council for only one billion years."

I struggle to get myself settled on the deckchair, uncomfortable with my trenchcoat flopping down on the sand. As Zachariah shoves a cocktail into my hand, I lock my gaze on Ecanus. The goatee Angel serenely looks around the congregation of the two hundred members of the Council, all lying on lounge chairs shaded by umbrellas. None of them seems taken aback by how the meeting is going, I assume that this is common practice within the Council. After all, this is only the second time I've been summoned to one of their meetings.

Ecanus stretches his wings and sips his drink while waves lap at his ankles. A couple of meters behind him, I catch a glimpse of the soul owning this Paradise - a man in a green swimsuit smoking a cigar, sprawled on an inflatable floating mattress.

"First of all, I would like to welcome Castiel and congratulate him for his promotion. He is now a permanent member of the Council, thanks to a rehabilitation that put an end to the older members' reluctance."

I stiffen when all eyes turn to me, and Ecanus lifts his glass and winks at me.

"Welcome, brother."

Zachariah smiles broadly and clinks his glass against mine. I have no choice but to gulp down the liquid like the other members and let the alcohol wash through my windpipe. A seagull's wistful cry rises in the warm air, and I squint at the dazzling sun - the bird's winged silhouette is outlined in the cloudless sky. I look down at Ecanus when he speaks again, and I pull myself up on the chair, nearly rolling over onto my side - these seats are really awkward for a meeting.

"Sadly, this is not the reason why we are gathering today, as the situation on Earth is worsening and we need to take action before it is too late and the Apocalypse begins. As you probably know, an alarming number of seals have been broken by the demons in the last few hours, and this in spite of Castiel and his Garrison's relentless efforts."

A mixture of rage and disgust stirs deep inside me. I know that approximately half of the Council members - if not more - already know, like Zachariah and I, that all of this is nothing but an act. An act we are all playing out to prevent the Angels not included in the confidence from panicking, and to avert the risk of rebellions, or worse, a new revolution like when Jesus Christ died.

"How many seals do we have left to keep Lucifer in his cage, Castiel?"

I snap out of my dark thoughts when Ecanus asks me this question, and I stare back at him. I wonder if he is playing a role too, or if he genuinely doesn't know.

"Just one," I reply in a hoarse voice.

Ecanus nods and gazes at the assembly.

"Brothers, we don't have much time to make a decision. There are only two hundred soldiers in the Garrison, and as Castiel has often stated to us during this year, this is insufficient to secure the Cage's locks. I would like to recommend a short-term solution: each of you must provide one thousand soldiers from your division to join the Garrison and protect the last seal, for the fate of Creation is at stake! Let's vote by show of hands: who is in favor?"

Zachariah's hand springs up instantly as whispers spread from the deckchairs and dozens of hands rise up with varying levels of confidence. As for me, I sit still and rigid with my empty glass between my fingers, frowning.

This is a complete waste of time.

Anyone who knows what the last seal entails can't ignore that no celestial army, no matter how massive, will be of any use. Demons are no longer our enemy, if they ever were. Sam Winchester is the one who will break the last seal.

This is only about preserving appearances for the Angels, who are as trusting, loyal and blind as I myself was not so long ago. And now I'm on the other side, pulling the strings, being the very thing I used to resent.

How was I ever able to believe such blatant lies?

As I finally raise my hand and Ecanus counts the number of votes that clearly exceed the majority, the air fills with pure vibrating wrath. I barely turn my head before Ophaniel bursts in with a fierce flurry of feathers. Her floral printed dress flaps against her vessel, and her short curly hair billows around her heart-shaped face. Her human eyes flash with fiery grace as she grabs me by the tie and yanks me out of my deck chair.

My empty glass falls to the sand as I scramble to my feet, her forehead pressed to mine, our auras colliding to form a lightning dome around us.

"What do you think you're doing, Castiel?" she hisses threateningly. "Who gave you the right to decimate ten animal species in Key West? Do you honestly think I'd let you squash MY division's work like that? You don't know me, Castiel, you really don't. I was fond of you, but you made a big mistake by making me angry. And I will make you regret that."

"Erm, Opha?" Ecanus arches an eyebrow. "Would you please let go of our new Council member and discuss this in a civilized manner?"

Ophaniel angrily lets go of my tie, which I quickly loosen - my Grace couldn't flow through my veins as it choked me. She turns on her heels, smacking me with her wings, and spreads her arms with a sneer. Almost all the members have now stood up to watch the scene.

"And you're telling me he got promoted to the Council?" Ophaniel snarls. "He's being rewarded for his treachery and lies? Do you even know what your new friend did? He ordered his soldiers to break the seals themselves! He made my Hester slaughter innocent animals! He works for Lucifer and wants to bring about the Apocalypse, he is a TRAITOR!"

The blue fabric of my tie slips through my fingers as I untie it completely and do my best to knot it again like Jimmy had. My fingers freeze as a rough voice suddenly echoes in my head.

Hey, Cas, come here pronto. I need to talk to you.

That's Dean's voice.

It's really not the right time.

"Ah," Zachariah says, finally pulling himself out of his deckchair. "Now that's a bit of an awkward situation."

Brushing sand off his suit, my supervisor walks over to stand next to me while I fail to tie a proper knot. Ophaniel turns to us, scrunching up her nose in rage.

"Awkward!? That's an understatement! We're on the verge of the Apocalypse, Zachariah, and your subordinate that you so highly recommended to us is a spawn of Hell!"

Come on, damn it, get your feathered ass down here.

I sweep Dean's annoying prayer into a corner of my mind, focusing on Zachariah who tilts his head to the side with a confident, condescending look.

"Oh, dear Ophaniel... You never earned the favor of the Archangels, guarding your soldiers and your animals with such ferocity. How could they have trusted you with the real plan, passionate as you are?"

"What kind of nonsense are you blathering about now, Zachariah?" she spits, clenching her fists. "What are you waiting for? Just send Castiel to rehabilitation! He has to pay for his crimes and be put back on the right track!"

"Rehabilitation? Didn't you hear? He just had one!"

Zachariah lets out a high-pitched chuckle and glances at me playfully, like I should find this funny. I don't. The rehabilitation's harrowing echoes left a glaring void that keeps growing inside of me.

"What? But..."

"Castiel, why don't you explain to Ophaniel exactly why I sent you there?"

It's important! What the hell are you doing? Come here!

Dean is starting to get on my nerves. The situation is serious here and I have no obligation to obey a Human, not even to the one under my protection.

Digging my hands into my trench coat pockets, I hold my head high and cast a blank stare at Ophaniel - the beach is now swarming with Angels standing around us in uncomfortable silence. The sun shines down on us while the quiet sound of the waves rumbles in the distance.

"I was unwilling to obey Zachariah's orders. The ultimate plan was never to prevent the Apocalypse, but to make it happen."

Whispers and murmurs immediately spread through the crowd while Ophaniel stares at us, growing pale.

"What is that supposed to mean?!" she blurts out, staggering back.

"Wait a minute there, Zachariah!" Ecanus steps in. "We were supposed to keep the plan secret from the non-initiated members of the Council until Lucifer is set free!"

Well, that answers what I was wondering about. So Ecanus knows all about it.

Zachariah's pale lips curve into a wry smirk.

"Now that Ophaniel dropped the bomb, we have no other choice, do we? Castiel, do me a favor and discipline Hester for yapping away. It will be entirely her fault if we face yet another celestial civil war."

"Of course. I will make sure that she is punished accordingly."

Rgoan takes a step forward smugly, smoothing his black suit sleeve.

"It was about time we could work in the open, without having to sneak around and rewrite reports. I believe that the uninitiated members of the Council are ready to hear the truth."

What the hell is your problem? You want me to be formal about that whole praying shit, is that it? You want me to get on my knees and join hands? That's your kink?

"Did others know about this?" says Leoc indignantly. "Why have I not been informed of this? I have been arguing for thousands of years that a good old-fashioned Apocalypse is exactly what we need!"

"Because you managed to piss off every single one of us with your plankton, Leoc!" Brap snaps right back.

Ophaniel seems to pull herself together, divine wrath hardening her face.

"Don't tell me you're going to believe this opportunist's schemes?" She points at Zachariah. "Everyone here knows that the only thing he cares about is rising in rank and hoarding power ever since the rehabilitation deep-fried his sanity! We haven't seen a single Archangel for TWO THOUSAND YEARS! So how can you be so sure that he is telling the truth, that he is not some disgusting Lucifer's minion? You all bought right in, you idiots!"

Okay, prima Donna, if that's what you want: Our Father in heaven, baby Jesus, Mary, Joseph and all that crap, yadda yadda yadda get your holy ass down here, amen. Is that good enough for you, or you want me chomping on a freakin' wafer too?

I line up behind Zachariah as two groups begin to form and about sixty Council Angels stand behind Ophaniel, glaring at us. I take my hands out of my pockets, and when she rushes straight to Zachariah, I shield him by seizing Ophaniel's arm in an iron grip.

There are no actual warriors here, I'm the only one who has been fighting on the field forever. All the Angels of the Council are used only to give orders and manage their soldiers without having to fight themselves. With a swift and rough movement, I spin her around and hurl her away, sending her to crash into a coconut tree.

Come on, Cas, you're fucking killing me!

I dismiss Dean's angry voice and punch one of Ophaniel's supporters who are now charging at us all, then kick another one in the stomach with my foot. There is screaming all around and I throw a destructive blast that knocks the opposition to the ground. They jump back to their feet, flapping their wings. By my side, Ecanus waved his hands to form sand tornadoes that tear the Paradise's landscape.

"ENOUGH."

We all freeze at the blaring voice, its commanding tone intensified by thunder. A flash of lightning rips through the darkening sky, and the sea churns with a storm even though the soul floating there doesn't seem to notice a thing. The sand rains back down and the crowd of Angels reverently steps aside.

"Raphael," I whisper, my eyes widening.

Contained in a dark skinned Human body, the Archangel steps through the crowd, glaring at us coldly. The wings behind his back display long feathers glowing brightly with electric arcs. His aura is so powerful that our wings droop in submission.

"Zachariah informed me that there is a violent conflict happening within the Council. All of you were chosen for your qualities and devotion, and I am... disappointed in your behavior."

He narrowed his eyes when he uttered that word. His quiet, slow voice sends a chill running through the crowd.

"Raphael..." Ophaniel, whose hair is disheveled, bravely steps forward. "Zachariah is working to start the Apocalypse and pretends that this is what God and the Archangels want..."

The Archangel halts and turns his head to her, cocking an eyebrow.

"He pretends, you say?" he says, emphasizing every syllable in a deep voice. "And yet, these are exactly the orders Michael and I gave him."

"Ah! Told you so!" Zachariah gloats.

The Archangel turns around to scan the entire Council with his eyes.

"I was going to inform you once the Cage was unlocked, to prevent another pointless disaster like the one two thousand years ago. But now that you found out, keep it secret and don't breathe a word of this to your subordinates. I want no leaks, no chance of outbursts in our ranks."

"So our Father actually wants this Apocalypse to happen?"

Ophaniel's voice sounds broken. I dispassionately gaze upon her distress and disillusion, which I experienced myself before my rehabilitation.

Cas... Hey, Castiel... are you even listening? Please...

I brush aside Dean's annoying voice, which interferes with the conversation I'm trying to listen to. Raphael stares at the Angel with an inscrutable expression.

"Yes," he replies.

His wings open wide, and with a silky rustle of feathers he flies off, leaving us silent and disheveled on the ravaged beach. Unbothered by our confrontation, the soul is still smoking on the raging sea.

oOo

"No, Castiel, wait! You don't understand, I did tell Ophaniel, but I only did it to save you! The rehabilitation did something bad to you, and you had to be stopped before it was too late!"

Fighting against Mgam and Habioro's grip, Hester stares at me vehemently between her disheveled locks of blonde hair. Hands in my trench-coat pockets, I slowly walk up to her and hold her gaze unblinkingly.

"You said yourself that rehabilitation would be good for me, Hester."

"I was wrong! I was so wrong! I thought it'd be better to have you feel nothing at all than to grow feelings for a Human, but... what they did to you is worse than anything I could have imagined, and if I had known, I would have... I would have helped you rebel, I would have followed you... Forgive me, Castiel, forgive me, I never meant to hurt you..."

Tears fill her eyes and run down her pale cheeks. I can feel Mgam and Habioro's judgmental gaze on me, studying my face. Their loyalty goes to Raphael and Zachariah, and I know that any sign of compassion from me will be perceived as evidence that the rehabilitation failed.

I can't let any weakness show through.

"You disobeyed, Hester, and you are displaying feelings as we speak. You are flawed." I turn around and walk away, uttering my order over my shoulder. "Send her to rehabilitation."

Mgam and Habioro's wingbeats cannot cover Dean's voice, which has been nagging me for hours - it's wavering now, choked in repressed tears.

Cas, you son of a bitch, just answer me! I'm getting worried out of my mind here! Are you still alive?

I reluctantly spread my wings too. Getting Dean to cooperate completely in the fight between Lucifer and Michael is one of my top priorities, and his relentless prayers come at a very convenient time. But still, I have no desire to go talk to him. Not when my situation is so unstable and dangerous.

But orders are orders.

My trench coat flaps as I fly away, and flops back down when I land in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, surrounded by the chaotic clutter of car wrecks littering the lot around Bobby Singer's house. My eyes lock onto Dean's distraught profile. He's standing there, peering into the deep night - it takes a few seconds for him to notice my presence and turn to face me.

"Well, it's about time!" he exclaims, his voice croaking. "I've been screaming myself hoarse out here for about two and a half hours now!"

His voice went hoarse on those last words and his eyes are glistening with unshed tears.

"What do you want?" I say, taking slow steps in his direction.

Regaining his confidence, Dean locks his facial expression back into a hard, angry mask, though a glint of raw vulnerability lingers in his eyes.

"You can start with what the hell happened in Illinois."

My feet hit the ground in a calm, steady pace, closing the distance between us.

"What do you mean?"

"Cut the crap. You were gonna tell me something."

"Well, nothing of import."

I stand right in front of him, tilting my head up to meet his eyes. That's the Human for whom I tried to defy Heaven and commit the worst crime there is. I know now just how foolish and clueless I was. My misguided action was bound to fail.

"You got ass-reamed in heaven but it was not of import?"

A surge of panic runs through me just at the mention of the rehabilitation. I wish I could explain to him, but... what's the point of telling Dean that for a moment I believed I could save him and his brother, but the truth is, nothing can ever save them from their Destiny?

The hard lesson I learned from my failure and bad decisions will be of no use to him.

Am I still being watched, even after my rehabilitation? Zachariah seems to believe it worked. I am a member of the Council now, I rose to the top and no one would dare to disrespect me or even imply a thing, especially now that both Zachariah and Raphael have deemed me worthy to lead the sensitive and glorious mission of raising the Apocalypse. And yet, it would only take a small thing, anything at all, for them all to realize that I still harbor the same doubts deep inside.

Like Anna said, I won't be given a second chance. The next mistake I make, I will be executed at once.

"Dean, I can't... I'm sorry."

My feathers puffed up and it takes me some effort to fold my wings and step away, turning my back to the righteous man. I can't let my determination falter. I have a mission to achieve and the fleeting pain experienced by mortals should not influence me. Throughout the ages I witnessed many tragedies that stirred my compassion, but I have always remained impartial as an observer. And all these tormented souls eventually found peace and happiness in Heaven.

Why would Dean be any different?

I guess the reason I feel so strongly about his suffering is that I pulled him out of Hell myself and he was the first human I ever spoke to face to face. He is my responsibility, the very first big mission I was given as head of the Garrison.

I need to stay unattached.

Thousands, millions, billions years from now, when this Apocalypse will be just another memory in my mind, when this planet will be nothing but dust in the void, when the Final Judgment comes, I will look at Sam and Dean resting on the fields of the Lord, and I will know that I did the right thing.

The present doesn't matter. Michael and Lucifer's fight will happen. One brother will kill the other. Dean and Sam will suffer beyond their imagination. It is written.

But they will be rewarded for all of eternity, bathing in the love of God.

"Get to the reason you really called me," I say sharply. "It's about Sam, right?"

"Can he do it? Kill Lilith, stop the apocalypse?"

Laying eyes on the crumpled car shell reflecting the starlit sky, I grit my teeth. I don't like twisting the truth, nor do I enjoy deceiving the precious trust Dean seems to have placed in me.

"Possibly, yes."

It pains me to feed hopes that are bound to be crushed in blood and tears. I would rather have Dean ready for the upcoming tragedy. Hope is just additional pain when all is already written.

But I have my orders.

I turn around to face Dean who is staring at me.

"But as you know, he'd have to take certain steps."

"Crank up the hell-blood regimen."

He replied instantly, like he knows what he's talking about, like he understands the situation. He knows nothing. He is as ignorant and easy to fool as I was before my rehabilitation. It feels like a lifetime ago...

"Consuming the amount of blood it would take to kill Lilith would change your brother forever. Most likely, he would become the next creature that you would feel compelled to kill. There's no reason this would have to come to pass, Dean."

The time has come to obtain Dean's promise that he will cooperate. Zachariah wants to make sure as soon as possible that Dean will say yes to Michael when the moment arrives.

"We believe it's you, Dean, not your brother," I say as I step closer to him. "The only question for us is whether you're willing to accept it. Stand up and accept your role. You are the one who will stop it."

Dean's gaze darkens and his eyebrows furrow fiercely.

"If I do this, Sammy doesn't have to?"

Jimmy's imploring voice echoes back to me as I witness this new display of the purest kind of love there is.

"If it gives you comfort to see it that way."

Dean shakes his head and turns away with a bitter laugh.

"God, you're a dick these days."

He takes a few steps away - which is starting to be a pattern between us - and his shoulders are stiff with tension.

"Fine, I'm in," he says firmly.

This is not enough. I need to fulfill my mission with all the formalities required by my new rank in the hierarchy.

"You give yourself over wholly to the service of God and His Angels?"

"Yeah, exactly," Dean says sarcastically.

"Say it."

My commanding tone seems to unsettle him, and he turns to hold my gaze with dark, narrowed eyes before slowly walking back to me.

"I give myself over wholly to serve God and you guys."

"You swear to follow His will and His word as swiftly and obediently as you did your own father's?"

These words ignite a spark of rage in Dean's eyes. He holds his head high with barely contained anger as I peer into his eyes to read his soul.

"Yes, I swear," he spits angrily.

Mission accomplished. I feel no satisfaction though - just emptiness.

"… Now what?" he asks.

"Now you wait, and we call on you when it's time."

Seconds pass in silence, until Dean averts his eyes and slowly shakes his head in disarray. I watch him pinch the bridge of his nose and take a shaky breath.

"Tell me the truth, Cas... Is there any chance we'll make it?"

I let my eyes wander over his rough-jointed fingers, then over his stubbled jaw where a muscle is twitching.

It is only a matter of months - a few decades at most. Or centuries at worst. This Apocalypse will pass like the others did, and the time will come for reconstruction, for life to be revived on Earth. Then, when Sam and Dean die, I will gather their souls and personally take them to Heaven. Their suffering will be rewarded immeasurably.

"I believe there is," I reply, my voice barely above a whisper.

Before he opens his eyes again, I'm already gone.

oOo

In the next chapter

"You still haven't told me, what the hell are you doing here, Cas?"

"I'm watching over you."

"The hell you are! Showing up once the fight is over, that's your thing?"

"Just because you don't see me doesn't mean that I'm not here, Dean."