Previously: After his rehabilitation, Castiel is convinced that the Apocalypse is necessary and will even benefit the Winchesters and all of Humanity. He makes sure that, as fate would have it, Sam heads out to kill Lilith, the last seal. Because of a leak, all the Council's Angels know that the Archangels want to start the Apocalypse. Anpiel reveals to Castiel that she was created under special conditions so that she isn't sure whether God or the Mother of All created her, and therefore whether she is an Angel or a monster. The Apocalypse is nigh so Castiel takes Dean and confines him in a room cut off from the world, on Zachariah's orders. Lavavoth mentions to Castiel Zachariah's favoritism in his favor: he has indeed promoted him, brought him into the Council and got him to preside over the pre-Apocalypse meeting that will be held tonight. Before the meeting begins, Castiel bids Dean farewell, but Dean insists that he rebel. Castiel refuses, because he wants Sam and Dean to go to Heaven after they die and be rewarded by Michael after the Apocalypse, and he fears that any rebellion from him will bring an eternity of torture and suffering to Dean and Sam.
This chapter takes place in season 4 episode 22.
oOo
The last seal
"I've been assigned to preside over this meeting to prepare for upcoming events. My name is Castiel, General of the Garrison for the past twenty-six years, 17th grade, 3rd rank and a new prominent member of the Council. Please take a seat, we will begin."
Standing at one end of the massive egg-shaped table, I watch as the Council members sit in their assigned chairs. The meeting room is bathed in pure white light. As president of this session, the choice of the place was left to me and I decided to put an end to this annoying trend of using Human Paradises that I unwillingly initiated after my planning disagreement with Brap. Over the rustling of clothes and scraping of chairs, I cast a sidelong glance at Zachariah. Sitting next to me, my supervisor wears a smug smile, clearly pleased with my performance so far.
"As you know," I say hoarsely, "this session will be unusual as it will cover the Apocalypse's practical and administrative issues. With less than an hour before us, I will make it short and to the point. First, I will outline the unusual aspect of this Apocalypse and why it is necessary, then I will describe the process, the plan of action, and the assignment of secret and official missions by sections. If there is time left, the last minutes will be spent on your questions. No, Rgoan, there will be no fancy toasts or champagne."
Rgoan startles at the sound of his name - I clearly heard him criticizing the lack of snacks to Leoc and Ecanus. After a couple more seconds glaring at him, I resume my speech, scanning all Council members with my eyes.
"Those of you who missed the last meeting must have received the private memo from the Archangel Raphael, with the latest orders on this matter. So you already know that this Apocalypse has been approved by the highest authorities and is very official."
I step aside so they all can see the black panel that Zachariah is pulling down from the ceiling with a flick of his finger. I raise a hand and let my Grace seep through the pores of my palm in a glowing mist. Bluish and watery, it floats in the air and streams onto the panel until it shapes a sparkling chart that represents the proportion of human souls present in Hell, Heaven, Purgatory and Earth, according to the statistics and the PowerPoint that Zachariah forwarded me just before the meeting.
"I will highlight several key points in my presentation. You all are familiar with the biggest obstacle encountered during the previous Apocalypses," I say, pointing to the chart. "A high percentage of the human population will die, at least 30% if not all. To make the Reapers' task easier and to ensure that no mistakes are made in redirecting the souls, we need to assign extra staff to work on the soul lists, which are sorted according to their worth, devotion and sins. First and second grade Cherub mutations will be scheduled tomorrow to assist with administrative work."
With a snap of my fingers, I change the chart to display the list of broken seals and the Garrison's actions.
"The actual launching of the Apocalypse falls under my jurisdiction and responsibility, with Zachariah's supervision. I will summarize the work accomplished since I assumed my position. Here you can observe the countdown to the stars aligning to provide optimal energy flow for the final seal to be destroyed and free Lucifer. The Garrison's mission will be to make sure that it is broken as Destiny intended. Here is the difference with the previous Apocalypses. We are about to witness the ultimate battle between Good and Evil."
I snap my fingers again while the two hundred Council Angels stay silent and attentive. My Grace moves across the panel again to shape the organization chart of the different sections.
"The Apocalypse will be a challenging time for all sections to manage. Your duty as commanders is to crush any attempt of rebellion in the hours and days to come. You will be required to keep a close eye on your high-risk subordinates so that the Archangels don't have to wipe out rebels again, as they did during... Camael's sacrifice."
My voice cracked on my dead brother-in-arms' name, the Angel of Joy. I clear my throat and lower my eyes, wishing my trouble went unnoticed.
"Finally, I will lay out the projected plan for the two scenarios that will occur depending on the outcome of the fight: the orders to follow depending on who will win. Lucifer, or Michael."
"Of course, this is just theory and sheer speculation," Zachariah chimes in with a sly smile. "I estimated a 93.461% likelihood of victory for Michael. So there's nothing to worry about!"
"Indeed."
"And I hate to interrupt our president's presentation, but I'd like to formally declare that Michael and Raphael promised Heaven on Earth if our side wins. You all realize what that means, hm?" There is an excited chatter among the Council members who share looks of longing and amazement. "Please continue, Castiel."
With a stiff nod, I snap my fingers to build up with the shimmering threads of Grace the PowerPoint headline written by Zachariah. The following words appear in Enochian:
THE APOCALYPSE, A RENEWAL PROGRAM
The letters are shining bright and vibrant against the black panel, so that even the Council members sitting in the back can easily read them. It's a lengthy presentation Zachariah made me memorize. I haven't written a word of it, busy as I have been with the seals and Dean's resentment. By making me a Council member, by assigning me to preside over the meeting, by having me speak his own words, Zachariah is displaying his power. I am his tool, his dutiful soldier, and he's letting all Heaven see it this way. This is a purely strategic move on his part - I represent rebellion, so having me tamed and controlled by his hand will increase his power and influence.
I know enough about bureaucracy and political schemes now to realize this. Zachariah doesn't want to rule the Council himself. He is not interested in openly claiming power. It's clear to me that he intends to stay in the shadows and take credit for the actions he has his connections perform, the Angels who are indebted to him, and the ordinary pawns like me.
"The Apocalypse has a bad reputation due to the last failed attempts," I say, reciting the introduction. "I understand your concerns and they are valid."
Zachariah's words feel like ashes in my mouth. I keep on talking anyway, thinking about Dean who is waiting alone in his golden prison for the cruel fate that will fall on his brother and him.
"Let me explain why this one will be different and positively affect all of Heaven and Creation."
I snap my fingers again so my Grace floating on the sign unwinds like snakes and displays:
SLIDE 1: THE APOCALYPSE IS INFALLIBLE
1) A 500,000-year planning: all sectors secretly involved
2) Improved safety: avoiding the risk of mass rebellion
3) The Apocalypse is approved by the Archangels: a validated and legitimate mission
4) A confrontation written in Destiny's plans: the Will of God is law
"First, let's address your remaining concerns. Unlike what Ophaniel claimed at the last meeting, the Apocalypse was not improvised by a few rebellious individuals. It's a plan built in the highest spheres, and it's..."
Castiel... Hello?
It's me, it's Anpiel!
Check, one two one two, can you hear me?
The wave transmission is bad.
"And what?" drawls Zachariah with a frozen smile on his face. "We have no time to waste, Castiel, we're on a schedule and we need to save some time for questions at the end."
I nod and square my shoulders, pointing to the first point.
Not now, Anpiel. I'm in a meeting.
"For those of you who were in the loop from the beginning, you know that this Apocalypse was planned from the moment Lucifer was imprisoned by the Lord when he rebelled - it was already apparent that he would one day have to be slain by Michael's hand. When Lucifer's escaped and devastated the Earth, the Archangels locked him in a sealed cage in preparation for that fateful day. And to guarantee a better outcome, thousands of years of hard work were put into developing new weapons. The ones we're all wearing today: Humans. Thousands of years of planning resulted in Dean and Sam Winchester being born to serve as vessels for Michael and Lucifer respectively."
It's important! You HAVE to listen!
Anpiel's hoarse voice sounds more urgent in my head, clear as if she were talking directly into my ear.
It's about the Winchester brothers!
My finger freezes as I indicate the second point.
"You... won't have to fear a mass rebellion, because the whole process has been kept secret from the lower ranks who would fail to understand the benefits of annihilating Humanity and all life on Earth. I…"
What about them?
"… I know first hand that ignorance was required, as I myself have been guilty of rebellion and sent to rehabilitation. I understand now the implications and... realize how stupid I have been."
Zachariah arches a patronizing eyebrow at my hesitations in the words I memorized from his speech. He probably thinks that I paused due to the humiliation of disclosing my crime and my punishment in front of the entire Council.
You were lied to, Castiel.
You were led to believe that Sam and Dean would come out of this fight unharmed and rewarded.
Listen carefully: Why do you think their souls are so pure and so strong? 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!
The Council members are staring at me, confused by my unexpected silence. I moisten my lips as I meet Ophaniel's shifty gaze, Ecanus' politely wary one, and Brap and Rgoan's clearly aggressive one.
"Third point..." I force the words through my throat.
My Grace feels like solid ice in my body.
Don't be ridiculous, Anpiel. The Archangels will merely use Sam and Dean as vessels to be faster, more powerful. Michael already tried to do so with Cain once.
My finger slowly slides over to the third point, and my Grace floating on the black panel sizzles at my touch, swirling and shimmering over my skin. A wry laugh echoes in my head, and I hear Anpiel sigh heavily.
What do you think would have happened to poor Cain if it weren't for the Mother of All? Sam and Dean are not going to make it out of this fight!
"Third point, as the Archangel Raphael's intervention confirmed at the last meeting..."
They are going to die, Anpiel, I know. And as Zachariah told me, they will be rewarded in Heaven more than they can imagine once Michael is victorious.
"… this was never a demonic or rebellious agenda. The Angels in my Garrison who died this year were only killed because they failed to adapt to the new orders. The plan has been designed and approved by the highest authorities, and orders are orders. Keep that in mind."
I shut my eyes for a moment, my mind seething with the doubts that Anpiel's words stir up in me, along with the rage and humiliation of trashing my most loyal and honest soldiers who were murdered by Uriel for their unwavering loyalty. Levanael, Miz, Pmox, Ephra... they didn't deserve any of this.
Zachariah lied, Castiel!
Lucifer and Michael will CONSUME the Winchester brothers' soul energy until there is nothing left, this is how they intend to win the fight! You know that souls are like nuclear reactors! When the Apocalypse ends, there will be nothing left of Sam and Dean but empty shells!
"Fourth point... There is no escaping Fate."
My voice sounds alien to me, echoing in my rib cage with hoarse tones. Jimmy's soul shifts in my rib cage, glowing like a lighthouse and radiating with power. Is that even possible? Could I drain my vessel's soul if I wished to do so? Was this really the Archangels' intention for all these thousands of years?
I frown as I point to the Enochian sigils floating in a bright haze, and pause to take in Anpiel's words. I am no longer so gullible and blindly loyal that I won't believe that Zachariah and the hierarchy could have lied to me about the Winchesters' fate, but...
Are you lying to get me on your side? You made it clear that you would do anything to stop the Apocalypse and keep your mission... I'm not stupid. How could you possibly hold such information, when you didn't even know about the hierarchy's true plans the last time we talked?
Anpiel's frustrated sigh echoes in my head as I proceed with Zachariah's speech to the assembly of section commanders:
"The Archangels' destiny has been to face each other in a fight between Good and Evil from the moment Lucifer disobeyed a direct order from God and fell before our very eyes. No one can deny it, you all witnessed that day."
How do I know? I have no idea!
I was minding my own business, and then all of a sudden I had all this information rushing into my head!
I just know, and I had to tell you before you do something you'll regret until Judgement Day!
A shiver runs down my spine as I feel like I'm being thrown into an abyss. The choice I am faced with overwhelms and terrifies me. Once again, I have no indication, no clue, no guidance, to make a decision with heavy consequences on a world scale and which will directly impact the two Humans under my protection. How can I tell what is true from what is false? How can I know which path is the right one to take?
Oh, Father, give me a sign...
"Slide number 2..." I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
My cloudy Grace twists and contorts to form the new points I need to address. But I don't even look at them, lowering my head as my arm falls limply to my side.
You admitted yourself that you don't know whether you are a creature of the Mother of All or of God Himself... Why should I believe you? It could all be a trap to lead me astray and unravel the divine plans.
Anpiel immediately replies in her croaky voice:
You don't have to believe me. I don't even know if I am bringing you salvation or damnation. I don't know if I am an Angel or an abomination.
"Castiel?" Zachariah sounds annoyed, drumming his fingers on the table. "We're kind of in a hurry here."
I stand frozen, staring at the edge of the table unblinkingly, my heart pounding in my rib cage. All eyes are on me and my wings are twitching in indecision behind my back.
Just ask yourself this question, Anpiel's voice washes over me. Are you willing to put Sam and Dean's souls at risk by ignoring my warning?
I look up and meet Zachariah's eyes, who's glaring at me with growing irritation. The two hundred Council members are staring at me, sharing puzzled whispers with each other.
I don't know what to do. How can I possibly guess what the right decision is? If I get it wrong, I will either doom Sam and Dean to annihilation or to the Archangels' wrath and an eternity of torture after death.
"Zachariah..."
I tilt my head to the side, making my face as blank as I can. Zachariah has completely lost his smile what I lock my eyes with his - he knows that something is interfering with his plans.
"Is it true that Sam and Dean's souls will be destroyed when the Archangels fight each other?"
A strange expression flashes across Zachariah's face. Something akin to uncertainty alters his features.
"Of course not. Who told you that?"
Before he even uttered those words, the hesitation he showed for a split second already convinced me. I snap my wings wide open under the Council's stunned looks.
"Castiel! Where do you think you're going?"
Zachariah's voice fades into my vigorous wing beat - the meeting room's brightness instantly shifts into the isolated room in the other reality. The one where the righteous man is trapped like a bird in a golden cage.
In a flurry of feathers invisible to the human eye, I land right behind Dean, in such a hurry that I don't even bother folding my wings. I grab his shoulder to force him to turn around, and I can hardly control my strength not to hurt him when I slam his body against the wall to keep him still. He attempts to speak, but he can't because of my hand covering his mouth.
I have no time or desire to listen to anything he has to say. Midnight is coming and the final seal will be broken soon. Now is the time or never to act or back down. For the second time of my life, I'm rebelling against Heaven, and I know that I won't get out alive this time. There is never, ever, a second chance for an Angel who already went through a rehabilitation.
Fear and elation are merging in my Grace. These are my last moments alive, and my fear subsides when I gaze into Dean's eyes and see his soul, so beautiful and pure, reflected in shimmering fragments. Filled with newfound assertiveness, I snatch the demon-killing dagger from Dean's side.
Whatever he reads in my eyes or thinks he understands about the situation, he nods encouragingly. Either way, he looks confused when I pull back and roll up my sleeve.
My mind is racing as I build a strategy urgently. Only Zachariah, Michael, and I know exactly where this room is located in spacetime, so the first thing I need to do is to get my supervisor out of the way as soon as he figures out what I'm about to do.
Dean's gaze weighs on me as the blade slices through my skin like butter - I block my Grace from healing me, and with my fingertips I scoop up the blood that flows profusely from the open wound. For a skilled sealmaker like myself, it pains me to sloppily draw the symbols and neglect the intricacies of the markings, but I have no hesitation in smearing the wall with my blood in the roughest banishment seal ever made.
"Castiel!" Zachariah's harsh voice rises behind me.
The seal isn't complete yet. I cast a frantic look over my shoulder as I trace the last major key, completing my seal's rudimentary design.
"Would you mind explaining just what the Hell you're doing?!" he hisses, striding angrily toward me.
Unsure if the seal will work, I slam my hand on the bloodstained wall. A blinding light bursts out in crackling flashes. Wide-eyed, I watch as Zacharizah raises his arms, a furious yell rising from his throat while his wings grow rigid behind his back. The next second, he is blasted into the void by a shockwave that would have been far more powerful had the seal been properly drawn. The flash of light dims, leaving Dean and me alone in the room. My wound is healed already like it never even existed.
"He won't be gone long," I say, trying to think of the most strategic way to act. "We have to find Sam now."
I turn to face Dean who's staring at me wide-eyed, his body tense, ready to fight. Like a soldier.
"Where is he?"
"I don't know. But I know who does."
I hand him the knife, the blade still wet with my blood. I worked out all the options available for us to find Sam and stop him in less than thirty minutes, before midnight strikes. They are very limited, since I'm a traitor to Heaven and Dean is only human. There is only one way.
First, I need to explain the situation to him. To be blunt and give him all the information, like I wish someone had done for me thousands of years ago.
"We have to stop him, Dean, from killing Lilith."
"But Lilith's gonna break the final seal!"
"Lilith IS the final seal! She dies, the end begins!"
Dean freezes, gawking at me as I roll down my sleeve.
"Okay..." He moistens his lips nervously. "Okay, that explains a lot... What are we gonna do?"
"Follow me."
Dean flinches when I extend two fingers to his forehead, but this time he makes no complaint about his digestive transit. He tightly closes his eyes, tensing up as I press my fingers against his skin and spread my wings. With a soft rustle of feathers, we appear in the house of the current Prophet of the Lord, Chuck.
The holy man has his back to us as he paces around the living room, his phone pressed to his ear. I fold my wings, not even sparing a glance at Dean next to me, who nearly tripped on his own feet when we landed. Chuck is talking in his mousy voice, the scent of anxiety and pheromones radiating from his body.
"… Then, uh, I'll take 20 girls for the whole night. Lady, sometimes you got to live like there's no tomorrow."
When Chuck turns around, he freezes when he notices us, his hand going limp on his communication device. A combination of horror and disbelief washes over his bearded face.
"Wait. T-t-this isn't supposed to happen."
This is a clear sign that cheating Fate is possible. Maybe we really do have a chance. I know we do. God would not have granted free will to Humanity if it were only a delusion.
Dean and I share a look.
"No, lady," the Prophet is talking to the phone again with a nervous laugh, "this is definitely supposed to happen, but I just got to call you back."
He hangs up, smiling sheepishly at us, clearly not knowing what to do.
"I, uh... may I help you with something, guys?"
"You may," I snap back, striding right to him.
Chuck startles back, most likely feeling trapped by Dean and I. Looking down at him, I realize that I lost all respect for the holy man, despite the quality of his writings on the Winchester brothers. Whatever high ideals and adoration for God and His decisions I held until recently... all have been shattered by the harsh reality and the hierarchy's dark undersides.
The Prophet cowers under my gaze as I narrow my eyes at him.
"You already wrote the final seal breaking, haven't you?"
"… Yes?" he squeaks in a small, scared voice. "S-sorry?"
"Show us," Dean orders in a rough voice. "We need to know where Sam and Lilith are."
"Where they are? But... you're not supposed to know... the visions... None of this was in my visions!"
"That's an order," I hiss through my teeth, narrowing my eyes.
"Alright, alright!"
Chuck slips out of our shadow and mutters something indistinct as he heads for his desk, which is crumbling with sheets of paper.
"The last scenes I wrote are here... I think the location was mentioned, but... Please don't mind the typos, I haven't had time for proofreading."
Dean collects the stack of printed sheets and proceeds to leaf through them one by one, shoulders tense.
"We're facing the Apocalypse, you really think I give a shit about typos?"
Chuck stammers out a weak apology while Dean flips through the pages with growing impatience.
"What the hell," he suddenly chokes, focusing on a specific scene. "Why did you write all that crap? I never said any of that to Sam!"
The Prophet leans over to glance at what the righteous man is reading, and scratches his beard awkwardly.
"Ah yes, that. Hum. Actually, Ruby AND Zachariah rigged Sam's voicemail so that he would hear the exact opposite of what you were telling him... When angels and demons work together, the result is quite nasty."
"What?! Those sons of bitches!"
"Dean," I cut in a hoarse voice. "We have no time for this. Find out where Sam is, that's all that matters."
Dean snaps his mouth shut, the furrow of rage between his eyebrows deepening as he flicks through the pages.
"Okay, found it," he says, reading quickly. "St. Mary's? What is that, a convent?"
I read over Dean's shoulder and get the full information: Ilchester, Maryland.
"Yeah, but you guys aren't supposed to be there!" urges Chuck somewhat panicked. "You're not in this story!"
"Yeah, well... we're making it up as we go," I reply, my mind racing.
There are only a few minutes left until midnight, but we can still stop Fate. We have to. Before I get the chance to say we're leaving, a celestial energy grows around us, so intense it makes my feathers fluff up and my Grace recoil from the power that freezes me to the spot. The purest white light gushes through the window, flashing through the drawn shutters. Electricity fills the air, raising the hairs on my arms while everything starts trembling.
"Aw, man! Not again! No!" the holy man exclaims with a sense of distress and fatalism.
That overwhelming power that crushes my wings and freezes my Grace... I would know it anywhere. That's the immensely powerful aura of the very first older brother I met in my life. Raphael.
"IT'S THE ARCHANGEL!" I yell at Dean.
If he is taking so long to show up, it's probably because Raphael is busy entering his vessel outside the house. He's always been reluctant to put on his flesh and blood armor, and that plays to our advantage.
Surrounded by the dazzling light that floods the place, Dean sharply turns to me, fear written all over his face. I can't fly away with him. I am grounded, my wings pinned to my back like a useless weight. But I can get him through the distance without me...
"I'LL HOLD HIM OFF! I'LL HOLD THEM ALL OFF!" I yell over the blaring whistle that only grows louder by the second. "JUST STOP SAM!"
Not allowing him a chance to reply, I slam my hand against his forehead, blasting him straight into Ilchester, Maryland while I stay here. The Prophet has cowered in a corner of the room, head in his arms as he casts a terrified look at the window. He lets out a muffled squeak when all of a sudden the ominous figure of the Archangel Raphael rises in the living room and slowly turns to face me. His wings made of light are filled with lightning bolts that destroy the desk and make the window shatter. The house trembles when the Archangel lays on me a look burning with contained rage. His vessel's dark skin is crackling with electricity, and I know the power grid must have blasted across the region under his sheer strength.
Surrounded by the Winchester Gospel pages flying all around, I clench my fists and hold his gaze, setting my jaw tight.
"Castiel," Raphael speaks coldly, emphasizing the last vowel.
His three true rust-colored eyes seem to dive deep into my core. It takes all my willpower to bear his inspection, and I lift my chin defiantly, spreading my wings in the most assertive way I can muster.
"Hello, Raphael," I say in my vessel's voice, all too deep and hoarse.
I can hear the Prophet's gasping, panting breath as he pushes himself up on his elbow in his house's rubble, but I ignore it. My thoughts and hopes are with Dean in these last seconds before midnight comes. And with my eyes on the Archangel's icy face, with Jimmy Novak's soul shivering in my heart, I know I am already dead. Dead by the hand of the one who welcomed me to life by calling my name for the first time. Dead in battle for a righteous purpose, as I was destined to do from the moment I was created. All I can do now is to offer Dean these last precious seconds. So he can stop his brother's arm. So the righteous man puts an end to what he started. So he unravels Fate and Heaven's plans in a way I never could. So he can prove the world that free will is real.
"You have some nerve, Castiel," states the Archangel threateningly as he slowly steps towards me, "defying us twice in the same year. And Zachariah thought so highly of you..."
There is no chance of me getting out of this alive. I never meant to.
I've never felt so at peace with myself, and I can't help but let a smile curl up my lip. For the first time since I opened my eyes on the Creation I am choosing my role and the battle I want to fight, and I am not afraid. Raphael frowns and stops in front of me, peering at me like a strange but disgusting bug. I hold his gaze steadily.
"Why?" he asks in a puzzled way that balances the wrath that washes over me in electric surges. "Tell me...Why would you disobey?"
Sheets are whirling around us with rustling sounds in the building wind, howling its fury to my ears. There is now a thunderstorm roaring in the sky and a heavy rain starts to fall, along with lightning that makes the night glow pale. Chuck is staring at us, shivering, curled up in a ball in the corner of the living room, soaked by the rain pouring in through the broken window. A sense of serenity like I never felt before fills me. It seems like I can hear the churning of the stormy ocean and feel under my feet the sand of the beach where I was created.
My life has been laden with doubts and delusions, but I embrace my end with newfound hope. I am at peace.
"Don't step on that fish."
Haloed with electric arcs, Raphael tilts his head to the side in confusion.
"This is the very first order you gave me," I say defiantly. "I've always protected Humanity, Raphael, but today, for the first time, I'm choosing to do so. Because I'm free."
The Archangel stares at me blankly, then raises a hand. He snaps his fingers, and pure agony rips through me. I can't even begin to scream - life is ripped from me in an explosion.
oOo
In the next chapter
"Balthazar, are you denying God's existence?"
"Yes, and? What are you going to do, report me for blasphemy? You, our poster child for rebellion?"