Previously: Castiel comes back to life two days after he was executed and finds out that the Cage is open and Lucifer free. He carves a seal on Sam and Dean's ribs to hide them from the Angels. Balthazar convinces Castiel not to lead a celestial rebellion and suggests instead that he finds God using Dean's necklace, whose amulet lights up in God's presence. Castiel gets a phone to reach the Winchesters, and takes the necklace…
oOo
In a cathedral's shade
The amulet sways with every step I take, catching a ray of sunlight now and then. I have been staring at this carved silver face for so long that its blank expression, protruding ears and curved horns are burnt into my mind. I've been holding it at arm's length in every church and holy place in the world, never taking my eyes off it since I took it from the righteous man, hoping and praying it would finally light up. But that never happened.
So I opted for a new strategy. No longer restraining myself to holy places, I started to search in a more rigorous way the Earth's emerged zones, starting with North America. While long and tedious, this method allows me to leave no part of this world unexplored.
A slight shift in the air breaks my focus. My mud-smeared shoes halt between two green sprouts of corn, and I look up from the amulet dangling from its leather string.
Something is different. An icy sensation ruffles my feathers while swarms of birds flee into the sky and mice and spiders scurry across the ground. My instincts are urging me to flee as well, but I stand with my feet firmly planted in the dirt, all alone in the middle of this remote field in Nebraska.
Wind rises, rushing through my trench coat and whispering threateningly through the corn leaves. In the distance, at the very end of the road cutting through the field, there is a tornado growing. It rises to the darkening sky, writhing like a snake on fire. I shove the precious amulet into my trench coat pocket to be sure I won't lose it, and clasp my wings behind my back to brace myself for what's coming.
The tornado is moving unusually fast, tracing the road in a straight line. A powerful gust of wind tosses my tie over my shoulder while my trench coat snaps open.
At my feet and as far as I can see, the corn sprouts are browning and wilting. Squinting as the tornado draws closer, I know without a doubt that this thing isn't natural. In the eye of the storm there is a black and gleaming car driving.
Any Human in my place would already have been blown away by the sheer brutality of the blast roaring in my ears, but I stand firmly on the ground, ignoring the clumps of dirt flying away all around me. The car is close to me now, I track it with my eyes until it drives right past me and I make eye contact with the driver.
My Grace freezes in my veins when those stony eyes skim across me like I'm some kind of irrelevant germ. I'm not fooled by the human form that this entity displays, by the wrinkles on its face or the black suit it wears.
For I have witnessed him in action, ages ago, during the last Apocalypse. I only caught a glimpse of him in the distance during the battle back then, but I would know the Pale Horseman, Death itself, anywhere. The ancient energy he radiates is unlike any other.
The car heads down the road, leading the tornado to the nearest city I've previously searched. I stand very still as the wind dies out. My trench coat falls back around my legs and my tie slips off my shoulder. I watch as the tornado crashes into the city and obliterates everything, ripping houses off the ground as if they were made of paper, throwing cars and Humans around in the air like wisps of straw.
Only when the Horseman and his tornado have faded from sight heading northwest do I unclench my wings and fly to the scene with a hushed rustle of feathers. There, a landscape of desolation unfolds before my eyes.
There is no sign of life left in this city. It reeks of burning flesh, plaster and dust. Fires rise from the rubbles, lapping at the mangled corpses. There are already hundreds of souls rising in the air like fireflies. A few Reapers show up as white shadows to sweep them away.
I couldn't have done anything to save those lives. I know from experience when there is no point in attacking. Never will I forget that my brother Ecaop died trying to fight Pestilence, who is far less powerful than Death.
Deep in my pocket, my hand closes around the cell phone I haven't used since I went to the hospital to get the amulet. If Death is roaming the United States, chances are his path will cross with the Winchesters if they happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. And that's a risk I can't take.
I pull out the communication device, flicking it open with my thumb, and press the keys to access the contacts and select Dean's name. Then, as Chuck instructed, I push the green button and press the phone to my ear.
The dial tone rings once. Twice. Then a third time.
At last I hear Dean's voice, gruff and clear.
« Yeah? »
The strain in my wings eases significantly. He's alive. Had I not been so busy the last few days relentlessly scouring the Earth, I would have called him earlier to make sure. From now on, I will remember to call him at least once a day.
"Dean. You're alive."
« … Cas? Is that you? »
I can hear him clear his throat right into my ear. There is something frustrating about conversing with the righteous man without being able to scan the expressions on his face or gaze into the fragments of his soul in his eyes, and I have no idea how to interpret the intonations in his voice.
"Yes. Where are you exactly?"
« Arkansas, for a hunting mission. Why you– »
I hang up by pushing the red button, and tuck the phone back into my pocket, feeling relieved. Arkansas. South East from here, opposite to the direction Death just took. So Dean and Sam are safe. At least, they are for now. With Angels and demons hunting them down and Horsemen scouring the Earth for the upcoming Apocalypse, they are always in danger. Everything can go wrong any second.
I draw the amulet from my pocket again to study its shape and asperities in the palm of my hand. Finding my Father is our only hope to win this war and save Humanity.
Time is running out.
oOo
The door closes behind me, the smell of grilled meat and music invade my senses.
"Hello!"
A waitress just spoke to me in French, a tray tucked under her arm and a pencil behind her ear. I look down to her smiling, freckled face.
"Would you like to have a drink or lunch?"
I scan the restaurant over her head, scanning for a familiar figure among the seated patrons or those leaning at the bar, bathed in the neon red glow.
"I'm looking for my sister. She should be in here."
The conversation is cut short before she gets a chance to answer: a raspy voice rises very loudly, over the sound of saxophone and drums.
"HEY, CASTIEL! I'M RIGHT THERE, IN THE BACK!"
Indeed, at the back of the restaurant, partially hidden by a pillar, Anpiel is frantically waving her hand with a broad grin that exposes her missing tooth. I can't help frowning as I feel several customers staring at me.
I did tell her we need to be discreet.
"Please get a seat with your sister and I'll bring you the menu right away!" says the waitress, flashing a smile before she turns on her heels.
I stride over to the table where my sister is slouched in an armchair, looking very much at ease with one leg drawn in despite her tight tailored skirt, Anpiel gestures for me to sit down.
"You were late so I went ahead and picked the first course without you. Have you ever had onion rings? I can't get enough of them. To think that this plant evolved defenses to avoid being gobbled up by animals, but surprisingly, Humans enjoy the taste. I heard Brap is pissed off about it."
I sit while the Angel protector of birds rambles on, stuffing her mouth with fried onion rings. And as I sink into the chair, I lean forward to hiss through my teeth:
"Next time, you shouldn't yell my name. It's dangerous."
Anpiel stops talking to stare at me with her mouth full. Then she swallows and points at me, shouting around in French:
"HEY GUYS! LOOK! CASTIEL! WE'VE GOT CASTIEL HERE!"
Anpiel doesn't look impressed when I glare at her. She gives out a laugh that sounds like a pig snort and pops her drink straw into her mouth.
No one in the restaurant showed any reaction. A couple of customers merely glanced at us distractedly before resuming their conversation.
"See? Nobody cares!"
"I'm on the run, Anpiel. The Garrison is after me, and I'm having a hard time as it is to escape the patrols hindering my quest."
Anpiel crosses her legs, wiggling her toes - clearly, she took off her shoes before I got here.
"Don't worry, little brother. I'm not that stupid. I made sure before meeting you here that no Angels or demons are lurking around, and no Jehovah's Witnesses - did you know that Raphael and Zachariah are using them as a Human Spies Network now?"
I glance around warily. The clients are no longer paying attention to us, and the waitress walks up to us busily, setting two wooden boards in front of us where the menu is written on a printed sheet.
"Why did you want us to meet in this place?"
Anpiel studies the menu, her wings sprawled across the ground.
"Duh, because here in Brussels, I found the world's greatest burgers. This small restaurant has only just opened, but it's high quality. And believe me, I've been testing out quite a few restaurants in the last decades since I'm not bound by the 543A circular forbidding Angels to visit Earth. So I wanted to share this treat with you, Castiel."
"I didn't ask you to join me on Earth to consume food but to report on the situation in Heaven. How are things up there?"
Anpiel winces and puts the menu back on the table.
"I'm not going to lie to you, it's not great. The Archangels and division commanders have cast us in some kind of bad George Orwell's 1984 remake. With everyone scrutinizing everyone else, it's getting harder for me to accomplish my recruiting mission for our righteous cause. I can't even approach any of the Garrison Angels, Zachariah is all over them and they're pretty much always out on a mission anyway. Too bad, 'cause I'm pretty sure I could win Zedekiel over with the right arguments. He's not the rebellious type, but I know him, he rarely agrees with the orders even though he keeps quiet and obeys."
A steady tapping sound of footsteps interrupts us, and I lean back in the chair. The waitress is smiling at us cheerfully, a notebook in her hand.
"Have you made your choice?"
"I'll take the Val Thorens," says Anpiel, wiping her greasy fingers on her skirt. "With extra bacon."
I've always communicated with my brothers and sisters in Enochian, but ever since I became General and our missions became directly involved with Humans, we've been interacting more frequently in English or any other human language without even realizing it, like French now. The bases for speech are the same for every language, but there are certain things about Humans that can only be expressed in their languages, just like some things about Heaven can only be described in Enochian and would be very hard to translate for a Human. It's all about sharing information, no matter what language we use.
The waitress nods as she scribbles in her notebook before she turns to me.
"What about you, sir?"
"I don't eat."
Anpiel barks out a laugh and hands over both menus to the waitress, who seems confused.
"My brother is talking nonsense, just ignore him! Of course he's going to eat, he will have a Texan burger and a coke."
The waitress scribbles on her notebook with a somewhat forced laugh and leaves.
Leaving aside the obsession my sister seems to have for human food, I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table.
"How many Angels have you converted so far?"
"Huh… Not many. Inias from the Wind division has some rebellious tendencies and has been looking up to you for thousands of years. He isn't suicidal though, he'll only join us if we have a strong chance of winning."
"And besides him?"
Anpiel sighs and slams her empty glass on the table.
"No one will listen to me. I'm a freak, remember?"
"I do remember."
I lower my eyes and reach into my pocket, closing my hand around Dean's amulet. No doubt Balthazar will get better results. But no matter how many prayers I addressed to him these last days to check on his progress, he has yet to answer me. Which makes sense, if as Anpiel says the Garrison is under Zachariah's close supervision. Balthazar will need to be very careful when he recruits allies for me. I can't imagine what would happen to him if he were to be arrested. No matter how curious he's always been about rehabilitation, I don't think he'd enjoy going through it himself.
"What about you, Castiel? How is your search for God going?"
I look up at my sister's croaky voice. She tucked her wings behind her back and is staring at me with the same eagerness that has been burning in her eyes since she first realized that my resurrection is a true miracle from our Father.
"Still nothing." I tighten my fist around the silver pendant in my pocket, frustration seeping into my Grace. "I have been searching for Him in every holy place. I prayed to Him daily, begging for His help, for Him to show Himself to me. I have explored North and South America inch by inch to no avail. I will keep searching in Europe, Asia and Africa."
Anpiel nods, pouting.
"I don't get it. Since He brought you back to life and saved the Winchester brothers at the last minute by putting them on that plane, He must care about you and want to help you, right? So why is He hiding?"
"I don't know, sister. I wish I did."
"Mh… And what do the Winchesters have to say about it? Do they have any thoughts on the matter?"
"I haven't contacted them yet, but I plan to do so soon, if only to make sure they're safe. But I highly doubt that two mortals, no matter how special they are, would know where the Creator is."
"Yeah. True."
The waitress's footsteps move closer again, and this time she's carrying a tray.
"One Val Thorens, one Texan and a coke!" she announces, placing the food on our table. "Bon appétit!"
I look down at the pork, onions, salad and tomato slices stacked between two buns of soft bread on my plate. I have nothing left to do here. I need to go back on my quest for God.
I guess the shifting of my wings gave away my intentions, since Anpiel points her fork at me threateningly.
"You won't leave this place until you've eaten every last crumb and swallowed every last drop. You're saving Humanity, Castiel. At least try to enjoy what Humans do best. Food."
I scowl at the burger and glass of fizzing dark liquid. I never quite understood why some of my brothers and sisters are so passionate about the food Humans need to ingest to sustain their vital functions. We have no need for it since our Grace fuels the organs in our vessels. It is completely pointless to insert food into our body and start the digestion process. All this does is clog up the guts and consume energy to digest and assimilate nutrients.
I wonder if Anpiel, Zachariah, Rgoan and all the other Angels who eat for entertainment purposes disintegrate the food as soon as it reaches the stomach like I did the last time I was coaxed to eat, or do they let the digestion process take its course and eliminate the waste through natural channels?
I can tell from my sister's stubborn expression that arguing about how an Angel doesn't need to eat would be a waste of time. So I choose to give in to her request and take the burger with both hands to bite into it, ignoring the meat juices running down my chin. The taste buds of my organic body kick in, listing the different flavors that I'm chewing and swallowing.
"Hey! Not like that! At least take the time to savor it!"
Anpiel looks disappointed when I wipe my mouth with the napkin before picking up the coke glass that I down in one gulp, throwing my head back.
"Thank you for your report and the food discovery." I rise up from the chair. "I will be in touch through prayer. Stay alert."
She makes a hand gesture that vaguely looks like a greeting I've sometimes observed in human soldiers in the last few decades. Leaving my sister to her weird ingesting and digesting hobby, I disintegrate in my stomach everything I just swallowed and fly away.
oOo
In the Santuario de Guadalupe cathedral's shadow, with my back pressed against the red bricks, I retract my aura and my presence so strongly into my vessel it is almost painful. I shut down my respiratory functions, my heartbeat, the blood flow in my veins and all body heat in order to make myself invisible in every way.
I can see clearly in the night that a few street lamps brighten with a yellowish glow before they start to flicker, crackle and shatter in a shower of broken glass. I know even before I hear their wings flapping that three of my brothers in arms have just appeared in front of the cathedral, blade in hand and face locked.
They're not there for me. They haven't noticed I'm here.
The stench of sulfur and demonic energy that has infested the city of Dallas for the past hour is what is bringing them here.
I can't explain why I felt the need to see them, to hear their voices, even if only from afar. Possibly because of the harrowing silence in my head since I've been exiled. For forty-two million years I've been listening to the unceasing whispers of my brethren's voices echoing in my Grace, and I feel the loss more acutely with every new day that goes by in utter solitude.
Habioro and Rachel are wearing a dark, formal suit, scanning their surroundings with a sharp gaze. Rzionr Nrzfm, in his red-haired child vessel, looks tiny next to them, but his fierce aura hints that he's the strongest warrior of them three.
Seeing them again stirs mixed feelings in me, ranging from wistfulness to resentment and envy. Habioro and Rzionr Nrzfm have only recently joined the Garrison, but Rachel has been by my side since the first day I opened my eyes to the wonder of the Lord's Creation. On her true face that floats translucently before the blonde Human's she's possessing, her three gray eyes are just the same as they used to be. I can read in them the same warrior's commitment she already showed a long time ago, when we were fighting side by side against the Leviathans.
"They opened a portal to Hell in this cathedral," says Rachel in a stern voice. "Our mission is to seal it and get rid of all the demons in the city."
Habioro, in her female vessel with wavy dark hair and olive skin, slowly raises one hand up.
"I can smell their stench from here. This won't take too long."
She snaps her fingers, and the cathedral gates burst open, unleashing a howling torrent of demon-possessed Humans. I remain silent, hiding in the shadows and watching the three Angels slice through the crowd with their blades and blasts of pure energy, as the demons try to outnumber them.
Rzionr Nrzfm fights with a raw kind of violence that reminds me of Uriel, a mirthful sneer on his lips every time he stabs a demon with his blade. The three of them soon have finished wiping out the demons, and they step over the corpses to head for the cathedral.
"Rzionr Nrzfm," says Habioro as she lets her blade sink back into the palm of her hand. "Go ahead and seal the portal before more demons or Hellhounds come out."
The demon blood stained Angel nods and walks into the cathedral while my two sisters stay at the gates and discuss the mission's next stage.
"Should we dispose of the corpses?" Rachel asks, gesturing at the hundred or so blood-soaked bodies.
"What for? Zachariah gave us no instructions about this, and the Humans will have to see a lot more of dead people by the time the Apocalypse comes to an end. Should they survive the Apocalypse, we will consider erasing their memories collectively."
"Castiel was the best of all of us at altering human memories. I never quite managed it as flawlessly as he did."
I couldn't help stiffening at my name and Rachel's sharp gaze suddenly snaps to the cathedral shadow where I'm hiding, then she squints inquisitively.
"Burying memories deep in the mind is just as effective and requires much less effort," Habioro retorts. "There's no need to fuss over details."
Rachel remains silent, her eyes locked on me. As our eyes meet, I can see the expression on her face shift slightly.
"What's the matter? Did you see something?"
At Habioro's question, Rachel breaks our eye contact and turns her head to her sister.
"I thought I did, but I was mistaken."
Rzionr Nrzfm steps out of the cathedral stretching his wings and cracking his knuckles.
"There. I closed the stupid portal. Can we get back to a real mission now?"
"Not yet," Rachel snaps back with a commanding tone. "You're going to share the city between the two of you to cleanse it from demons. Rzionr Nrzfm, take the northern part. Habioro, you will handle the south. I'll be writing a report for Zachariah. Dismissed!"
The two Angels fly off in a flurry of wings, leaving Rachel alone surrounded by piles of dead bodies reeking of blood and sulfur. The light pouring out of the cathedral makes the pure white of her wings shimmer. She remains still for a moment before raising her voice.
"I know you're here, Castiel."
There is something both harsh and weary in the way she says those words. She doesn't even bat an eyelid as I step out of the shadows, allowing my vessel to resume its natural organic functions while I loosen some of my control over my aura.
"Hello, Rachel."
She turns her head to look at me, her long blond hair sliding over her shoulder. Her eyes are hard, but without hatred. I walk towards her, stepping over corpses with burnt eye sockets still smoking, the bottom of my trench coat absorbing demonic blood.
"Nice fight," I say, gazing around us. "You've always been a great warrior."
A glimmer of harrowing sadness flashes through my sister's eyes as she stares at me, still as a statue.
"What happened to you, brother? You used to be the most devoted and loyal soldier in the Garrison... Why did you rebel?"
I stop in front of my sister, hands deep in my trench coat pockets, and share a long look with her. How could I explain in words the long process that led me to open my eyes to our hierarchy, our orders, and what is right and wrong?
"For the same reason you didn't signal my presence to Rzionr Nrzfm and Habioro. I did what is right."
My answer seems to displease Rachel very much. Her wings puff out and she bares her teeth with a snarl.
"It's not rebellion that stopped me from exposing you, it was out of loyalty! You saved my life once. I've paid my debt now. Next time I see you, I won't think twice before turning you over to Zachariah regardless of our history together, because I serve God!"
I hold her gaze unblinkingly, defiantly raising my chin.
"Well, I serve God too. Now that's a bit embarrassing, isn't it? Who's in the right here? Who can claim without a shadow of a doubt that they are truly serving God?"
Confusion and anger harden Rachel's gaze, and without a word, she flees in a furious flap of her wings. I stand still and stare down at the blood-soaked ground, where the imprint of my sister's shoes is still visible. Then I turn to face the cathedral and stride closer until I step inside.
The interior decoration is plain and the walls bare of any kind of ornament. Aside from the bloodstained and shattered altar and the faint whiff of sulfur in the air, there's no evidence of what happened here. I walk between the rows and sit down on one of the benches that haven't been knocked over by the flood of demons that poured out of the portal.
Again, silence engulfs me from the inside and leaves me utterly alone in my own mind, amplifying in my ears the blood rushing through my veins and my heart thumping. In my pockets, my hands close around the amulet and my cell phone. My only two possessions.
I pull the phone out and flip it open, looking down at the glowing screen displaying Dean's name, who I call every day to ease my mind.
Somehow against my will, my thumb pushes the green button and I bring the device to my ear, listening to the familiar tone sound. I don't need to wait long this time. It takes two ring tones for Dean's voice to fill the agonizing silence in my head.
« Cas, you know what fucking time it is? »
That's a strange question, but I decide to give him the information.
"Three in the morning and eighteen minutes in this time zone. Why?"
My voice echoes in the empty cathedral. In response, I hear a sigh that causes some static on the line for a second.
« You're lucky I can't find sleep anyway. »
I think I can hear the tinkling of a bottle against a glass and the sound of liquid pouring. Then, distinct gulping and swallowing.
« So, what did you want? »
"Where are you?"
Throat clearing sound. I stare ahead at the wrecked altar, waiting for him to reply.
« Kansas, Junction City. I need to stay there a few days for a hunt a bit trickier than I thought. I'm staying at the Dreamland Motel, room 7. »
"Good. Try not to put yourself in danger. You are too important to risk your life or damage your body, especially now that I can no longer heal you should you get hurt."
I narrow my eyes as I hear a muffled laugh. With no way to study Dean's face, I can't tell if that's a wry or genuine kind of laugh, let alone identify what's funny about what I just said.
« That's your way of saying you care about me? »
There's something odd in his tone of voice, like he's enjoying himself. It's hard to tell. But now that I have proof that he's alive and his location for the next few days, I can end this conversation. I take the phone away from my ear and Dean's voice rises again just when I'm about to press the red button.
« Hey Cas, don't you dare hang up on me again! You can't keep doing this, call me all hours day and night to check where I am, and then hang up right away! »
I frown and press the phone back against my ear.
"Why?"
Again that bottle against glass tinkling sound.
« 'Cause it's fuckin' rude. That's no way to make a phone call when you're civilized. »
Chuck gave me no instructions on the proper way to make a phone call, other than strictly technical, and the user manual mentioned nothing about this either. Perhaps I did some things wrong without realizing it.
"So how should I do it?"
« First, unless it's an emergency, say hello first, and goodbye at the end, and let me know you're going to hang up before you do. And I dunno, you gotta ask how the other person is doing, make small talk. That kind of stuff. »
The unspoken rules of human social behavior are so hard to grasp... From one region and one age to another, sometimes even from one individual to another, they can drastically vary. It is often difficult to determine what behavior is deemed appropriate in each situation.
"Make small talk?" The confusion in my voice is growing obvious. "How?"
Another muffled laugh from Dean, who also seems to have trouble enunciating some words.
« Yeah, I mean, chatting about the weather, about what you did today... »
"The temperature is 78°F in Dallas, today I searched for God and witnessed a battle between Angels and demons."
« Mh, okay… And what are you wearing right now? »
I frown, growing even more confused if that's possible. Dean's voice has dropped in pitch, and I think I detect a hint of... is that mockery? I'm not sure. And how would this information be of any use to him?
I look down at the body containing me, at my black pants, white shirt, blue tie and black suit jacket under my trench coat.
"The clothes Jimmy Novak was wearing when he allowed me to take control of his body. This is just a vessel. It doesn't matter what clothes are covering it."
There is a chuckle on the other end of the line.
« Wow, Cas. You sure know how to talk to a man. You should try applying for a job at a sex hotline, you'd kill it with that sweet talk of yours. »
"A what? This whole phone conversation thing is foreign to me, Dean. I don't know if I'm doing it right."
I squeeze the phone a little harder against my ear and I think I hear him cackle.
« Forget it, I'm just messing with you. I had a rough day and I'm a lil' drunk. »
Alcohol has always caused some weird effects on Humans, as I've observed throughout the ages. Dean is no exception, it would seem.
"I'm… going to hang up now."
I'm not convinced that the wording is correct, but at least I'm trying to follow his instructions to use the phone in a civilized manner.
« Yeah, okay. Good night, Cas. »
I resist the urge to remind him that Angels do not sleep.
"Good bye, Dean."
« Bye, Cas. »
I listen for a few more seconds to the steady sound of his breathing. Should I hang up now, even though he hasn't hung up yet? What is the procedure?
I slowly take the phone away from my ear and push the red button after some further hesitation, restoring the silence. I sit there for a long time in the empty cathedral, my eyes fixed on the phone's black screen.
Only later, when I fly back to my quest, do I realize that the burden of silence and loneliness has become a little lighter.
oOo
In the next chapter
"I have never seen the Lord with my own eyes. Rare are those who have had this privilege."
"Never? Not even when you were a baby angel?"
"I never was a… baby angel. I was a thousand feet tall celestial warrior ready for battle from the very second I was created."