Previously: All seals have been broken, except for the very last one, which is meant to be Lilith dying at Sam's hand. The truth about the Apocalypse is revealed during a Council meeting because of Ophaniel informing the division commanders who didn't know yet. Raphael steps in to confirm the directive. To ensure that the final seal is broken, Castiel arranges to have Sam escape, as Dean and Bobby were trying to purge him of demon blood. He also captures Anna and turns her over to Zachariah. Anpiel tells Castiel that she was created under special conditions that mean she doesn't know whether God or the Mother of All created her, and therefore whether she is an Angel or a monster. When Dean tries to stop Sam, who with Ruby's help wants to kill Lilith thinking this will stop the Apocalypse, they fight and Dean loses. The Apocalypse is coming and Castiel takes Dean off to an isolated room, as ordered by Zachariah.

This chapter takes place in season 4 episode 22.

oOo

Dean's supplication

The Angel figurine tilts under a single push. Its stone wings do nothing to stop its fall, and it shatters to the ground into pieces that glitter in the bright room - a fragment of a face now stares longingly at the ceiling.

I carefully fold my wings, eyes riveted on the pieces Dean is towering over. Even with his back on me, I can feel radiating from him the grim satisfaction that his act of destruction brought him.

When Dean asked for me in a prayer, I was hesitant to show up because I dreaded his questions and ire. With all of my doubts creeping back on me, I would rather not face him at all. I must stand strong against temptation. The Apocalypse is almost upon us and it wouldn't take much to ruin it all now. How could I make him understand that I misled his trust for his own good and for Humanity's, not just to obey orders? He would never understand.

For Zachariah was right. Destiny cannot be stopped. Everything has been planned for thousands of years and the best I can do now is to make sure that the Apocalypse begins, and to escort Sam and Dean's souls to Heaven when it's over at last.

"You asked to see me?" I say, tearing myself from staring at the broken Angel.

I look up to meet Dean's eyes. Awkwardly, he nudges the fragments with his foot, as though hiding an act of destruction would somehow cancel it out - a very human trait which consists in denying the existence of what they cannot see or hear.

"Yeah, listen, I, uh, I need something."

"Anything you wish."

"I need you to take me to see Sam."

He frowns worriedly and his voice softens the way it does every time he says his brother's name - it's subtle, but noticeable.

I hold back a weary sigh. As always since I met him, Dean is asking me for favors that I cannot grant him. I could believe that he is doing it intentionally. But now I know where my loyalties lie and I won't let a misguided sense of compassion interfere with Destiny's plans.

"Why?" I say, aiming to discourage him.

"There's something I got to talk to him about."

"What's that?"

Dean's expression hardens and he steps forward with the now very familiar angry and frustrated look on his face.

"The B.M. I took this morning. What's it to you? Just make it snappy."

I turn my head from him, unable to hold his gaze. Dean still doesn't know the tragic fate he and his brother are about to face. If Zachariah is right and Michael manages to defeat Lucifer and bring Heaven back to Earth, Dean will have been forced to kill Sam. He will witness it, helpless in his own body while his hands take his younger brother's life. Just like Cain and Abel. History repeats itself.

Now, with the Apocalypse upon us, it pains me to fuel Dean's foolish hopes, which will only make him suffer even more when the time for deception comes.

Only a couple of hours more and everything will finally be over.

"I don't think that's wise."

"Well, I didn't ask you for your opinion."

His disrespectful attitude should no longer offend me, as I have been enduring it on every occasion for the past year - and yet my Grace flares up in aggravation in my veins. I step closer to stare right into his eyes, and I find myself once again tilting my chin up to compensate for our slight height difference.

"Have you forgotten what happened the last time you met?"

I catch a glimpse of his soul through his clear green eye color. There is still anger there – the sharp memory of Sam choking him and the hateful words he uttered – but anguish swallowed it whole. He's too worried to resent him still. I can see right into his heart that he has already forgiven his brother, and this sibling love is so strong that I nearly forget to breathe.

"No," he snaps back. "That's the whole point. Listen, I'm gonna do whatever you mooks want, okay? I just need to tie up this one thing. Five minutes - that's all I need."

I guess I could grant his request. This last year proved to me how unstoppable Fate is, how every action taken against Destiny only benefits it in one way or another. But that would only give Dean false hopes and make things harder. For him as for me.

I won't let myself hope again. The fall is way too hard when I indulge in delusions.

"No," I state in a hoarse voice, clenching my fists.

Dean looks like I just slapped him in the face.

"What do you mean, no? Are you saying that I'm trapped here?"

"You can go wherever you want."

"Super! I want to go see Sam."

"Except there."

Dean narrows his eyes, his voice growing harsh.

"I want to take a walk."

"Fine. I'll go with you."

"Alone."

"No."

Dean lets out a wry laugh and shakes his head.

"You know what? Screw this noise. I'm out of here."

He walks past me, with his shoulder brushing against mine, and heads straight for the door. It will never cease to amaze me that after an entire year spent around Angels, he still assumes he has a choice. Is he even aware that I could kill him, maim him or pin him down with a single thought? That I could wipe out his memory, alter his personality and compel him to do whatever I want, that I could go back in time and undo his birth if I were ordered to do so? I still can't decide if he's being brave or reckless. Maybe a bit of both.

But after all, I am in no position to judge him as naive. I was foolish enough myself to believe for thousands of years that free will is real.

"Through what door?"

I slowly turn to him, spreading my wings behind my back. My aura fills the room in waves of energy that Dean is unable to perceive. He turns to face me, frowning in confusion.

Zachariah's room is designed in such a way that all it takes is a whisper of Grace to shut it away in a transient parallel reality where nothing else exists but these four walls. Quite literally. It is the same method we use to conceal our auras, our wings or our entire presence when necessary.

When Dean looks back at the door, it's gone, replaced by a wall. All exits have been removed. With a beat of my wings, I fly away and leave him alone in his gold cage, all alone in the dimension in which I confined him. Now he no longer exists anywhere in the fabric of time and space until Zachariah or I decide otherwise.

oOo

The rustling of paper sounds so loud in the silence.

Sitting stiffly on the chair, I keep my hands limp on my knees partially covered by my trench coat. Zachariah's office is bright. Everything is spotless and neat. Except for the desk made of glass and two seats, there is nothing but bare white walls.

New rustling of pages turning, then the scratching of a pen on the paper.

I turn my attention back to my supervisor's personal secretary. Leaning studiously over her work, Lavavoth pinches her lips into a thin scarlet line, her eyebrows furrowed so deeply that a fold has formed on the skin of her forehead. Her square glasses have been sliding down the tip of her nose but she made no attempt to pull them back up.

Obviously, an Angel has no use for glasses. They're probably her vessel's ones that she didn't get rid of. Her long brown hair flows over her shoulder, standing out against her green suit.

"I knew it," she finally hisses. "I knew the moment the Garrison was created that you would only bring trouble. Anael, Uriel, Camael, Siosp... and then you. You. You're the worst of them all."

She scratches the paper so hard that she tears it with the tip of her pen. I look down to watch her fix the hole with her fingertip glistening with Grace.

"I made one mistake," I say in a flat tone. "I learned my lesson in rehabilitation. It won't ever happen again."

Lavavoth slams her pen on the glass desk, snapping her head up with resentment in her eyes.

"This has nothing to do with your pathetic rebellion, I'm talking about Zachariah's blatant favoritism towards you!"

Thrown off balance by her emotional outburst, I squint in puzzlement. Never before had I wondered why is my sister so hostile to me, but now everything is clear.

"What favoritism?" I ask, tilting my head to the side.

"Like you don't know!" she bursts out, pushing her glasses up. "I don't know what he sees in you, but ever since that incident with the Neanderthals," she raises her hands and wiggles her index and middle fingers while articulating this word, "he's got a shine on you and spends his time defending you, calling in favors for you and grooming you for the brilliant career he planned for you!"

Again the same gesture of frenetically curling her fingers on each side of her face. Unaware of the confusion it causes me, she just keeps talking, her voice growing higher pitched.

"Do you really think that without help an ordinary soldier with no special talent like you could have been promoted to General of the Garrison, climbed up the ranks so fast and earned a place in the Council? Do you really think you would be granted the great honor of presiding tonight's meeting, so soon after being disgraced by a rehabilitation, if Zachariah had not used all his connections?"

She repeated this gesture twice more, and now I have to ask.

"Is there something wrong with your fingers?"

She snorts disdainfully, scrunching up her nose.

"It's a way for Humans to signify quotation marks in conversation - quite clever. But don't try to distract me! Everyone in Heaven is gossiping about your flash rise to the top!"

"I never asked for any of this."

Lavavoth's feathers puff up on her wings, doubling their volume.

"That's even worse! Do you realize that I have been trying to join the Council for billions of years, BILLIONS! All doors swing open for you, while I am stuck filing reports from meetings I'm not allowed to attend! I have served Zachariah devotedly, but never has he granted me even a fraction of the respect he gives you!"

"Lavavoth..." I lean forward, tie dangling down as I rest my elbows on my knees, peering at her like I'm meeting her for the first time. "You're displaying alarming signs of jealousy. Feelings."

An outraged scowl twists her red-painted lips, and her face goes livid. With a loud scraping of her chair, she leaps to her feet and glowers at me over her glasses - they slid down to the tip of her nose again.

"How dare you-" she chokes in seething rage, "accusing me of feelings?"

Her clenched fists are shaking. Her aura is filled with static energy that blows her hair up and sends crackling sparks through it.

I stand up as well, keeping one hand on the back of my chair, while holding up the other as a sign of placation. Since I heard about the silly rumor that emotions and free will are infecting us through human contact, I can't help thinking that all my brothers and sisters have grown more and more human in their reactions since we've been required to invest vessels. Perhaps it's not a contagion thing, and contact with Humans actually ignited something in all of us that had been latent until now. Could Zachariah's personal secretary be struggling with the same turmoil I experienced, like Anna and Camael did?

"It wasn't my intention to offend you, sister. Having feelings is... confusing. Terrifying. I know it is."

Lavavoth lets out a wry laugh as she crosses her arms under her chest.

"You went too far. Had I the power and authority, I would have had you executed long, long ago. Everything would be so much easier if you never existed."

"There is no need to be so dramatic. Let's stay calm and professional."

Lavavoth purses her red lips and I hold her storming gaze. Although overdramatic and emotional, her words sound genuine and cut deep.

"I think I know why Zachariah is so protective of you," she says bitterly. "He never forgave himself for rebelling in the past. He was the first one to question an order, even before Lucifer or Camael. And he's trying to redeem himself through you."

"You're speaking nonsense."

"Surely he believes that bringing a flawed asset like you back into the line will somehow prove his own worth. He... oh, he's so obsessed with this, he can't see that you're dragging him down! You're bringing disgrace on him and leading him to his downfall!"

"Be a doll and keep your thoughts to yourself, Lavavoth. Stick to doing your job, you really lack the ability to do any thinking at all."

Lavavoth and I sharply look to the office door. Zachariah is standing there, a smirk on his lips. His eyes, however, are blazing with raw anger.

A horrified expression washes over Lavavoth's face. Her wings slump behind her back in submission.

"Zachariah, I... it wasn't my intention to question your judgment... I would never!"

He shuts her off with an impatient whistle and points to the door. She lowers her eyes and collects her files against her chest, then scurries out. With a flick of his wrist, Zachariah slams the door behind her.

"Finally!" He flops down in his chair, hands crossed over his stomach. "Please excuse my personal secretary, she's not the brightest bulb in the box. I didn't pick her for her wits, you see."

I carefully sit back down in my seat, placing my forearms on the armrests. I don't really care about Lavavoth and the reasons why Zachariah picked her as his assistant. There is only one thing I really want to know.

"What was Dean's reaction?"

Zachariah stares me down with a smug grin and smooths his jacket, fixing his gray tie.

"He took it well, actually! You made such a fuss about the righteous man being a pain in the ass to deal with and whatnot, but really it was quite easy. You know, you need to learn how to make yourself respected, it's not that hard. I told him straight out that he's not going to stop Lilith or the Apocalypse, but Lucifer. And he didn't die on me or whatever you thought would happen to this special snowflake of yours. Of course, I'm keeping his role as Michael's sword for the last moment, to spare his little monkey ego. He is so sure he is going to single-handedly save the world, it would be pathetic if it wasn't so funny."

"But did he say something?"

Zachariah pauses, his smile stiffening on his face.

"Who cares? We're only a few hours away from the Apocalypse, and soon Michael will be nice and comfy in his body to lead us all to eternal bliss on Earth." He leans forward, resting his elbows on his desk to watch me more closely, his smile baring his white teeth. "The big pre-Apocalypse Council meeting starts in less than an hour, and you..." He points right to my face, and I squint at his index finger pressed between my eyebrows. "… are the one presiding, my boy."

He springs to his feet, his face lit up with an ecstatic grin. I watch as he paces his office, his arms flailing around to emphasize his speech.

"You have no idea how hard it's been to get all the high ranking members of the Council to agree to break the rules and traditions! I had to upgrade you significantly - you will be notified of your promotion through official channels within twenty minutes - and use every leverage I have to get you this great honor. Do you realize what a unique opportunity this represents? It's a career boost that will propel you into the top brass ring!"

He comes to a halt with his back to me, his wings proudly displayed in their full span. I frown and look down at my hands, remembering what Lavavoth said. I never asked Zachariah for favors, nor for all the responsibilities and honors he entrusted me with. I would have been content to remain a regular soldier in the Garrison forever, I'd have been much happier. It'd have been so much easier for me to keep on obeying blindly if I had never known about the hierarchy's schemes and treachery. I would have fought in that war and never rebelled, never knowing what it was all about, never been charged with protecting the Winchesters. I would have been left ignorant of it all, just a pawn on the chessboard, devoid of my own will and critical judgment.

There's no going back now. I'm not that devoted soldier anymore and I never will be again.

Now, on the verge of this new Apocalypse, I no longer know what to believe. I can no longer tell what is right and what is wrong, what is good and what is bad. Perhaps I never did. All I can hope for is that Zachariah is telling the truth, that Michael will defeat Lucifer. Only then will Dean and Sam be saved, and find everlasting happiness in Heaven.

What other choice is there?

Destiny cannot be stopped. I know this first hand for having attempted what can't be done.

"Before the meeting starts..." I whisper hoarsely as I rise to my feet. Zachariah turns to me, arching an eyebrow. "… I would like to bid Dean farewell."

He tilts his head to the side, his wings clenching.

"Care to tell me why you would want to do that, exactly?"

I hold his stare unblinkingly, my arms dangling at my sides.

After all we've been through together, I don't want Dean to think I've betrayed him, or that I've been coerced by the hierarchy. I need him to see that the only reason I'm choosing to serve Fate is for his and his brother's sake. So that they can enjoy Paradise after they die. For the both of them and for the Humanity I have grown to love through thousands of years, just as much as I once loved the Neanderthals.

But more than anything, I don't want the last image Dean will bring of me in death to be filled with hatred.

"I need to notify him the end of my mission as Guardian Angel," I lie flatly. "Just a formality."

Zachariah seems to relax a bit.

"Whatever makes you happy. I leave it to you to notify the Council members of the location you choose for the meeting. Don't be late, I'll be assisting you with the Revelation Powerpoint and the speech I wrote - I'll forward these to you in a bit."

Nodding in agreement, I spread my wings and fly off in a swish of feathers. Zachariah's white office blurs around me, giving way to the room where Dean is held captive. I materialize right behind him.

He holds his phone to his ear, unsuccessfully trying to call his brother. He has no idea that this place is cut off from reality as he knows it, and is located in a separate dimension where nothing other than him even exists. Only an Angel could find him there, and Zachariah and I are the only ones who know the coordinates. And probably Archangels too, I guess. After all, Michael himself will bring this body back to Earth once he's claimed it.

"You can't reach him, Dean. You're outside your coverage zone."

Not turning around, Dean lowers his phone, radiating a full range of dark emotions. Terror. Rage. Dread.

Like a trapped animal.

"What are you gonna do to Sam?"

"Nothing," I say, stepping forward. I walk around him, leaving him no choice but to face me. "He's gonna do it to himself."

He finally looks up to meet my gaze, his lips tightly pressed together.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

His voice is choked with obvious emotion. I can't help lowering my eyes, failing to maintain eye contact. I know I'm doing the right thing and what's in Sam and Dean's best interest, but I still feel guilt gnawing at me. Like I betrayed them.

"Oh, right, right," Dean mutters in a low voice. "Got to toe the company line."

When I look up, I find him standing right in front of me, his eyes peering through my skull.

"Why are you here, Cas?"

An emotion I can't identify is tightening my throat. This is the very last time I get to see Dean as I know him. This is the last time I can talk with him. Soon he will be obliterated by an Archangel's crushing presence, and once Michael defeats Lucifer... Dean will become just like Abel. Oblivious to everything around him, basking in his happiest memories until the Last Judgment.

Never again will I have a chance to confide my doubts to him or marvel at his soul's radiance through his eyes. A deep sense of longing overwhelms me, no matter how selfish I know my thoughts are.

He will be happy in Heaven, with Sam, and will have no need for me anymore. There is no sense for me to wish I could still be talking to him in a thousand, a million years. He is not mine to keep. Dean is merely a part of my Mission, nothing more. I will be given new missions, new responsibilities, and the day will come when he will become just another memory like Eve, Cain, Camael and Uriel are now.

I should never have grown so fond of Dean. That was a mistake.

"We've been through much together, you and I. And I just wanted to say, I'm sorry it ended like this."

"Sorry?"

From his wry tone, it would seem that I made a poor choice of words. I had carefully selected them, though.

He sneers and then throws his fist at my face. I rotate my head, moving along to ensure that he won't fracture his metacarpals. Then I turn it back to its original angle, staring at Dean who gasps in pain and rubs his bruised fist.

"It's Armageddon, Cas! You need a bigger word than sorry!"

How can Zachariah pretend that Dean's easy to deal with? Perhaps it would be easy if I simply threatened him or ordered him around. Earning Dean's trust and respect though... that's the toughest assignment I've ever faced.

Why won't he just listen? There is nothing and no one to blame, it all had to happen the way it did and nothing could have ever changed a thing!

"Try to understand," I say with all the confidence I can muster. "This is long foretold. This is your... "

"… Destiny?" Dean angrily cuts me off.

I snap my mouth shut and clench my fists.

"Don't give me that holy crap. Destiny, God's plan... It's all a bunch of lies, you poor, stupid son of a bitch! It's just a way for your bosses to keep me and keep you in line!"

My wings clench behind my back as frustration fuses with doubts like a festering wound. I angrily shove them back – I can't afford to be weak now. Not when redemption for Sam and Dean is so close. Their everlasting happiness in Heaven depends on my obedience to the hierarchy.

My silence seems to irritate Dean even more.

"You know what's real?" he utters somberly. "People, families - that's real. And you're gonna watch them all burn?!"

These unfair accusations make me lose my temper at last. Dean knows nothing, nothing at all! He never saw entire nations slaughtering each other before his eyes. He never heard the harrowing cries of mothers who had their children torn from them only to have their throats slit in front of them. He wasn't there for hundreds of thousands of years to witness the endless cycle of suffering and hatred.

"What is so worth saving?" I snap back. "I see nothing but pain here!"

I step closer, unfurling my wings fiercely even though he can't see them. Only when I can see every detail of his eyes do I stop in front of him, reading straight into his soul. The tainted soul I closed my hand on in Hell. This soul so beautiful, so bright but scarred - not only by the evil deeds he performed under Alastair's orders, but also by the tragic loss of his mother, his ruined childhood, and his life of endless suffering.

And this is what all of Humanity endures. Michael will free them from this world of tears and blood.

"I see inside you. I see your guilt, your anger, confusion." I can read in the glistering fragments of his soul the pain I'm rekindling just by mentioning it. My wings fold back as I quiet down my voice, anger giving way to compassion. "In Paradise, all is forgiven. You'll be at peace. Even with Sam."

Zachariah is right about this. It is in Dean's best interest for the Apocalypse to begin. Michael is tough but fair. Once he has defeated Lucifer, he will reward the Winchester brothers with the most beautiful Paradise ever.

I know this.

And yet, there's a sense of irrational anxiety crawling inside of me, which only grows stronger when I strive to convince myself that I'm doing the right thing.

Dean tilts his head like he's trying to catch my gaze. I hadn't realized that I had lowered my eyes. So I dive back into the mirror of his soul, and for a split second, I am thrown hundreds of thousands of years back in time.

Eve's eyes flash across Dean Winchester's and send an icy wave through me. It is the exact same expression, vibrant with passion, rage and supplication that she had directed to the sky when she was grieving over Abel's grave. This instant is carved into my memory and engulfs me whole.

The first and greatest regret of my life was that I failed to help God's chosen one when she was losing her Faith.

"You can take your peace... and shove it up your lily-white ass. 'Cause I'll take the pain and the guilt. I'll even take Sam as he is."

I narrow my eyes, chasing the shadow of my past away to focus on the present, namely Dean's deep voice. The situation is very, very different. What happened to Eve was not part of her destiny, unlike Dean... Dean is... Dean and Sam were created for this very purpose. It can't be reversed.

"It's a lot better than being some Stepford bitch in paradise!" he shouts. "This is simple, Cas!"

I turn away, furious at myself. What poor excuse for a Guardian Angel am I if I fail to do the right thing for Dean without being afflicted? Is my Faith so weak that a few words and a glare are enough to break it?

"No more crap about being a good soldier! There is a right and there is a wrong here, and you know it!" he keeps yelling at my back.

I can't... I can't let my compassion and ancient regrets hinder Dean's promised happiness. I can't indulge my selfishness again and disregard the long term. Dean thinks he knows what's good for him, but he's wrong. He's like a child, always focused on the present time and short-term satisfaction, without any thought of any future outcomes. When he finally enters Paradise, he will understand, won't he?

Abel's lonely, faded image in his Paradise flashes back to me. Do I really want to see Dean as a shadow of his former self, reliving the same memory over and over again until Judgement Day, without even realizing that he died? But... at least he will be happy... isn't that all that matters?

"Look at me!"

His grip on my shoulder is laughable - an ant would be more likely to lift a mountain with its antenna than Dean to make me move - but I let him turn me around nonetheless, entangled in my doubts and questions.

"You know it!" Dean asserts, staring at me intently.

I remain silent and frozen as Dean once again puts words on dangerous thoughts I barely allowed myself to have in the last few centuries.

"You were gonna help me once, weren't you?" he says, his voice softening. "You were gonna warn me about all this, before they dragged you back to Bible camp."

I avert my eyes at the memory of my failed rebellion. I believed I was doing what was in Dean's best interest at that time, but I couldn't see the whole picture yet. I wasn't thinking. I've done a lot of thinking since then. A whole lot. What would have happened if I actually managed to perform this banned seal on Sam and Dean, like Camael did on Cain? No matter how successfully I could conceal Dean and Sam from Angels and demons, they are not immortals like Cain was. What would have happened once they eventually died? Could Reapers even find them and send them to Heaven? Would they be thrown into Hell as punishment? Or perhaps I would just have doomed them to wander as ghosts on Earth until the end of times... I was foolish and blind, I nearly cursed them with the cruelest fate ever, all because of my misguided intentions.

"Help me. Now. Please."

I set my eyes on the Angel figurine that Dean dropped to the ground - it has become whole again and now stands on the chest, its stone face void of emotion.

Dean's supplication throws me into a dilemma. I wish I could help him, I wish I could gain his trust, but what I want more is to ensure that I don't bring an even worse fate upon him and his brother. If I rebel again, now, at this very instant... I will merely sentence them to the wrath of the Archangels, probably to an eternity of torture in Hell.

I can't indulge in my softness for him and compromise his future happiness just to get a short moment of his gratitude.

And yet, I hear myself asking:

"What would you have me do?"

"Get me to Sam! We can stop this before it's too late!"

The foolish hope that Dean had somehow come up with a brilliant plan to stop the Apocalypse without risking his own life and mine falls apart. He may be the righteous man, but Dean is even more ignorant and lost than I am, his advice is worthless to me. A rush of panic seizes me and fluffs up all of my feathers.

"I do that, we will all be hunted." I look up at him. "We'll all be killed."

"If there is anything worth dying for," he breathes out, "this is it."

Dean has absolutely no idea what he's saying. Dying will be the least of his concerns if we're caught interfering with Zachariah's and the Archangels' will. I don't care if I end up executed like Siosp or if my agony lasts longer and becomes more creative like Camael's. But Dean... what he went through in Hell will be nothing compared to what my brothers and sisters will do to him if he messes with Destiny. He will never enjoy the peace he deserves in Heaven. I can't even imagine what terrible fate would be awaiting him.

Once again, I'm faced with an impossible choice to make. More than ever, I loathe the doubt and uncertainty that plague me.

The stakes today are not the same as they were when Adam and Eve lived. If I were to give in to the urge to help Dean now, I would be risking his and his brother's lives.

I realize the choice is evident when a truth drags me down into a turmoil of terrifying emotions. While regrettable, the Apocalypse will end with Dean being rewarded for all his suffering. Of all the options available, even if all I get in return is his hatred, I will always choose Dean's safety and happiness above everything else.

His eyes grow cold and furious, filled with loathing.

"You spineless, soulless son of a bitch," he spits, stomping away. "What do you care about dying? You're already dead. We're done."

Frozen, I get struck hard by the hatred, the contempt radiating from him in dark waves. He keeps stepping away, like he can't stand to be anywhere near me.

"Dean..."

"We're done," he repeats, not even sparing me a glance.

I find it hard to breathe all of a sudden, even though it isn't required for my vessel to function efficiently. There's no point in telling him that I'm not afraid to die. I have never feared death, I was created prepared to die in battle at any moment. I would gladly give my life if it meant safety and happiness for the Winchester brothers, but things aren't that easy.

I was hoping I could part ways with Dean on good terms, but it appears that his rejection is the price I have to pay for him to be safe.

So be it.

I spread my wings and fly away. I have a meeting to preside over and a role to play that I never asked for.

oOo

In the next chapter

"Why do you think the Archangels need vessels to fight each other? Lucifer, Gabriel and Raphael have all fought in their true form in the past... why should it be any different today? They don't need human bodies to fight! They never did!"