Previously: Castiel rescues Dean just in time after Zachariah puts him through an illusion designed to persuade him to say yes to Michael. Instead of falling for it, Dean is more determined than ever, and even decides to team up with Sam again.

This chapter takes place in season 5 episode 4.

oOo

Hoping again

Blood-slick chains rattling. A scream lost in the void as the blade cuts into flesh.

See?

Deeper.

It wasn't that hard…

Nerve incision.

Good, very good, Dean…

Blood-stained fingers, dripping on the hilt.

Make the bitch scream…

The scream turns into a piercing, inhuman shriek. A chuckle in his ear, a hand guiding his wrist. Pain inflicted rather than endured.

You're a better student than your daddy ever would have been…

There's no more hope. Nothing but the sharp blade, the rattling chains and the warm, streaming blood. The cheering words in his ear.

The blade dissolves into sand, streaming through his fingers. Alastair's whispered voice fades and the screaming turns into a low, steady rumble. And when Dean looks up from his now clean hands, Hell's darkness has given way to a scenery of light and shadow. The ocean's tumultuous waters reach to the skyline, infused with blue and gray colors. Waves come crashing down on the wide beach with all of the storm's fierceness.

"What the…?" Dean mutters, still breathless, his voice broken.

"You were having a bad dream."

At my voice, Dean spins around, fixing wide eyes on me, where I can see his memories of Hell receding back into his mind. In the distance, lightning flashes across the cloud mass above the churning ocean. A rolling wave crashes onto the beach with a thunderous roar.

"I took the liberty of changing that," I say, gazing at my work. "I hope you don't mind."

Understanding and relief flash across his face, and he lets out a shaky breath.

"I'm dreaming."

It didn't sound like a question, but I nod nonetheless while Dean takes two steps towards me until we're face to face, imprinting his footprints on the sand. An iodized gust of wind ruffles our hair and makes our clothes flap.

"It looks so real…" he whispers, reaching out hesitantly.

His fingertips brush against my trench-coat collar, then trace my jawline.

"It's no more real than the illusion Zachariah showed you. The difference is that I'm way better at this than he is."

Dean lets his hand fall back along his body and turns his head to stare at the sky, the wild landscape of beach and rocks, and the rainforest covering the mountains in the distance.

"Nice job, Cas, it feels so real. Does this place really exist, or did you imagine it?"

"It did exist, once. Now, only in my memories. I was created on this beach, millions of years ago."

A smile grazing my lips, I shove my hands in my pockets and gaze at nature's staggering fury, the very first vision of Creation I've ever beheld. A vision that forever marked my Grace.

I wasn't thinking when I cast this specific memory into Dean's mind to stop his nightmare, and only now do I realize it's a part of me I'm happy to share with him.

"I remember standing here for hours, waiting for my first orders."

A brighter lightning bolt flashes across the beach, followed by deafening thunder. The scenery grows darker, and the rain starts pouring down on us. Dean closes his eyes and tips his head back, inhaling deeply. His thumping heartbeat quietens as we watch the storm and our clothes grow heavy with water.

"Thank you, Cas."

It was merely a hoarse whisper, barely audible over the crashing waves and the heavy rain on the wet sand. I just nod. I know exactly why he's thanking me.

"What you went through in Hell…" Dean tenses up at my side, glancing at me from the corner of his eye."… not many would have survived it. It is a miracle that your soul was not irredeemably lost."

"But I gave in," he murmurs bitterly. "I broke the first seal and started the apocalypse."

"It was written. Once Destiny ruled that you would break the first seal, you had no other choice. Had it not been demons, no doubt that Angels would have ensured that you stuck to the plan. Looking back, I suspect some of my soldiers might have sabotaged the mission so we'd be too late to save you. You should try to forgive yourself, Dean."

Dean lowers his head, letting the rain roll down his nose, over his jaw and drop by drop from his hair.

"You know what, Cas?"

Our eyes meet, and he looks at me with the fiercest determination.

"They can shove their destiny up their asses. I don't give a rat's ass about what's written or not, Michael can go fuck himself, I won't give him my body. I won't give in this time. Never again."

I can feel a smile playing across my lips, widening until my teeth are bared.

"I wouldn't expect any less of you, Dean. You have a strong soul."

Clearing his throat, Dean turns to me and squeezes my shoulder with a newfound assurance, a slightly forced smile lighting up his face.

"Hey, nice beach, Cas, but it's gonna take more for you to impress me. It's a dream, so you can change the setting as much as you like, right?"

"Of course," I say, proudly puffing out my feathers. "What kind of landscape would you like to see?"

Childlike excitement flashes across his face, making his eyes sparkle and his smile blossom.

"The Enterprise flight deck! Can you do that?"

"The what? I can only recreate places I know or can at least visualize."

His excitement wanes a little, his dimples hollow out as he presses his lips together, and he shakes his head with a disapproving click of his tongue.

"Cas, buddy, you're really going to need some pop culture lessons. If we get out of this freaking apocalypse alive, I'll show you Star Trek, Indiana Jones, Back to the Future, all the classics. You're really missing out on the best of humanity, you have no idea."

Understanding Dean's references would be nice, but it's too early and too optimistic to think about victory over the Archangels' schemes. I won't say it out loud, though. Dean's smiles are too rare for me to unnecessarily wipe them out.

"So!" Dean rubs his hands as he gazes at the landscape that witnessed the moment I was created. "No Enterprise, no Hogwarts, no batcave, got it... Ah! Can you take me to the moon?"

Finally, a wish I can grant. With a nod, I focus on changing the illusion, shifting the colors to gather them all on the distant Earth image, so blue and bright amidst the black sky. Ocean and mountains melt into grey dust dunes all around.

I've been on the moon quite recently, so it's easy for me to faithfully replicate the surface down to the tiniest speck of dust, except for the extreme temperatures and lack of atmosphere and oxygen that would kill Dean.

At the new setting and gravitational force, Dean reacts with a swearword laced with awe, before performing a few wide, low-speed jumps that blow up the dust beneath his feet.

"Cas, look at me! I feel so light, it's awesome!"

I wish Dean could always be like this. Free from any concern, a smile lighting up his face, a world away from the Apocalypse and Destiny's plans. But all dreams must come to an end.

"Dean, wake up."

My voice rose in his dream as well as in the reality I'm gently bringing him back to. I remove my fingers from his temple, withdrawing completely from his mind and restoring all my vessel's sensations.

The mattress border on which I'm sitting, sagged under my weight. The lingering detergent smell in the hotel room. Dean's now-familiar scent, musky blend of old leather, gunpowder and shampoo. And the sound of his breathing as his eyelids flutter open to reveal sleep-fogged eyes.

"It's time to go and meet Sam."

Dean blinks, focusing on my face as I stand up. With a stifled yawn, he sits up and puts his feet on the floor.

"Wow, I haven't slept this well since…"

He pauses to ponder as he stands up and puts on his jacket, a furrow deepening between his eyebrows.

"Come to think of it, I think I've never slept so well in my life. I feel great! Cas, buddy, forget everything I said about personal space and your perving habits, you're welcome in my dreams anytime."

"Duly noted. Where are we going to meet your brother?"

Dean crouches down to tie his shoelaces and doesn't respond until he's finished.

"You're not coming," he says, pulling up his jacket collar. "I'll go alone, you stay here."

He's avoiding my eyes, and his face is locked in that all too familiar expression.

"Why?"

"Because…" He walks around me to pick up his dagger from the coffee table, and slips it into his belt. "This is between Sam and me. I need to talk to him alone."

"But…"

"I need this, okay?" he cuts me off, finally meeting my gaze. "There are things I need to fix with my brother. And I can't do it with you watching and listening."

Letting Dean wander away from my protection when Zachariah proved he could track him with human agents is a risk I'm not comfortable with. But I know how stubborn Dean is. For a second, I think of following him anyway while being invisible to him to keep him safe, but I dismiss it immediately.

I need to be worthy of Dean's trust.

"Alright," I reluctantly say. "I will just wait here then."

His eyes soften and he taps me on the shoulder.

"Come on, Cas, stop pouting. I won't be long, and you know what? While I'm gone, I know exactly what you're gonna do. Here. Sit down."

I let myself be guided and sit on the bed in front of the television, and Dean turns it on. The screen instantly lights up to display Humans, their voices filling the room.

"Take that," Dean says smugly, shoving the remote control into my hands. "It's about time you educate yourself about us humans. You might learn a few things."

oOo

« After the lunch disaster the day before, day two starts with Gordon inspecting the kitchens... »

The sound of the key turning in the lock joins the horrified gasp from the television.

« My god, it's hot like in an oven in here… All that meat is rotten, the blood is warm and congealed… The smell is horrific! What's that? My god… The smell! BEEEP! »

The Human's mouth - Gordon's - blurred as he spoke, making it impossible to guess what he might have said. There's the sound of throat clearing as the door closes and the censoring beeping from the TV intensifies.

"Hi, Cas."

That was Sam's voice. Taking my eyes off the television, I resolutely press the red button on the remote control to switch it off - that hour passed faster than I expected. And I did learn more about Humanity in that short time than during the last two thousand years when the Garrison stayed locked away in Heaven.

"Hello, Sam," I say as I stand up to face him. "It's good to see you."

Standing back, Dean is taking off his jacket, watching us out of the corner of his eye.

Sam's facial features, no longer distorted by demon blood since the Cage opened, display a wry attempt at a smile.

"Likewise," he says, clearing his throat again.

He looks hesitant, a gleam of slightly pleading embarrassment in his eyes, and he crosses the distance between us with one step and wraps his arms around me. With my nose buried against his collarbone and my senses flooded with his scent and body heat, I stiffen and share a glance with Dean over his brother's shoulder. Dean merely offers a mildly amused pout, which I find utterly unhelpful. How am I supposed to react to a blatant violation of personal space?

"I'm sorry, Cas," Sam mutters against my hair. "You were right, there's no point running away. I'm ready to fight Lucifer with you now."

He finally pulls away, his hands lingering on my shoulders for a few more seconds, patting them awkwardly before he takes a step back.

"So… Dean said you have a plan to find the Colt and kill Lucifer?"

"Yes. It won't be easy. I don't know if we'll ever find the demon who has the Colt and take it from him, and even if we do and manage to locate Lucifer and shoot him, nothing guarantees that these bullets can kill a fallen Archangel. But this is the only viable plan we have."

Something close to dismay flashes across Sam's face while his brother flops on the bed, lying on his back, ankles crossed and hands tucked under the back of his neck.

"Wow, Cas, careful, don't go all optimistic on us."

Sarcasm. All that time spent with Dean taught me how to tell the literal from the ironic.

As I've always done with Balthazar's nonsense, I guess it's better to just ignore it.

"I'll stay with you from now on to carry out this mission and to ensure your protection. The armies of Heaven and Hell are searching for you, and they are getting closer every day."

Sam heaves a sigh and walks back to the door to grab his bag, which he'd dropped there when he came in. He places it on the vacant bed, sits on the mattress and frowns, giving me a sidelong glance before turning to Dean.

"Wait a minute, there are only two beds here. Where's Cas going to sleep?"

"Angels don't sleep," I say, pointing at the chair between the two beds. "I'll be here, watching over your sleep."

Sam lets out a disbelieving snort as if it were a joke, and his smile vanishes when he realizes that neither Dean nor I are laughing.

"For real? What, you're really gonna watch us sleep all night?"

"Yes."

Dean sits up on his bed with a squeak from the slats.

"You'll get used to it, Sammy. You know, mom used to tell me angels are watching over us. She was right, she just didn't know it would be a dude in a trench coat."

Sam presses his lips together and pulls a laptop out of his bag.

"Now," he says resolutely as he opens it. "Where do we start?"

oOo

"Hey, check out the Giono's, Sam. Specialty of the house with chicken, egg, bacon, beef, cheese and BBQ sauce. I think I'll have this, I'm starving, I could eat a whole cow. What about you two, made up your mind?"

Sam glances down at the menu and turns his attention back to the laptop screen propped up on the corner of the table.

"Yeah, I'll have the veggie pizza."

Dean lowers his menu and rolls his eyes.

"Of course. Sometimes I wonder how did you grow so freakingly tall, when all you eat is vegetables?… And you, Cas, what's your choice?"

I unenthusiastically read through all the pizza names and ingredient lists. Even after watching how restaurant kitchens function on television yesterday, the whole thing about food being handled, mixed, heated and dressed up by Humans still doesn't appeal to me. I have no desire to repeat the chewing, salivating and swallowing experience. It's tedious and pointless.

I put down on the table the menu - a laminated sheet of paper - and meet Dean's eager gaze.

"I won't eat. I don't need to."

Dean raises his eyebrows high on his forehead, a teasing smile curving his lips.

"I told you, Cas, food is all about pleasure."

"I don't enjoy eating. I've been ingesting a lot of food at your request lately, which is just a waste of your money since nothing I swallow reaches my stomach."

Something about what I've just said seems to spark Sam's curiosity, since he looks up from his screen to scrutinize me inquisitively.

"What do you mean, nothing reaches your stomach? How come?"

I turn my head to meet his gaze.

"It's quite simple. I disintegrate the food in the esophagus."

"Why?"

The brothers share a look - they asked the same question at the same time, with the exact same tone.

I never thought they'd be so interested in the way I manage my vessel's organism.

"I find the whole chewing and swallowing operation so tedious that I'd rather stop the digestion process before it even starts. That would be just a waste of effort when I need to control all this body's functions to the best of my ability."

"Wait, let me get this straight…"

Dean leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, and points his finger at me in disbelief, almost shock.

"You've never pooped? I mean, never ever?"

Now this is humiliating. I may be a rebel, exiled and hunted by my own kind, but I'm still a celestial, ethereal being.

I hold my chin up, puffing out my feathers.

"No, Dean. I've never defecated and have no intention of doing so. Not even to please you."

Again, Dean and Sam share a look, then burst out laughing, which earns us glances from other customers in the restaurant curious about the sudden hilarity.

"This isn't funny," I hiss through clenched teeth.

Out of breath, Dean wipes a tear from the corner of his eye. His cheeks flushed red, eclipsing his freckles.

"Oh but it is! Look at you, Cas, busy saving humanity, but you still think you're too good to poop like us mortals."

The clacking sound of heels on the tiled floor signals a waitress arriving, smelling like camellia. In the blink of an eye, she sets plates, forks and knives in front of us.

"Welcome to Giono's, gents. Have you made your choice?"

The Winchester brothers grow serious again while the waitress - Katia, judging by the name tag on her blouse - pours ice-laden water into our glasses.

"We'll have a Giono's, a veggie, and Cas will have a quattro stagioni. Plus three beers, please."

At Dean's wink, the waitress smiles, spins on her heels and strides back the way she came. While Dean takes a sip of water, the ice cubes tinkling in his glass, Sam focuses back on his laptop screen.

"I've researched everything I could for the last twenty-four hours, but…" Sighing in frustration, he snaps his computer shut and brushes a lock of hair back behind his ear. "Nothing. How are we supposed to find a demon who's hiding and doesn't want to be found?"

"That's what I've been wondering for weeks." Condensation droplets are building up on my glass and sliding all the way down to the table. "I was foolish enough to hope that you two would have the human resources with your technological gadgets to solve this problem."

Dean gulps down his glass, then lowers it with a raised eyebrow.

"That's judgment I hear in your voice, Cas?"

I shrug to express impatience veiled in sarcasm.

"I'm just saying that when I was studying the Winchester Gospel holy scriptures, I was under the impression that finding a supernatural creature was a quick and easy task for you with libraries and your Internet network. Looks like I overestimated you on this point."

"We've only been on the case for one day, and Bobby contacted every hunter he knows to help us find that Crowley demon!" Sam protests, frowning. "It can take us days or even weeks to locate our target!"

"Drop it, Sammy. Cas has no patience at all. You should have heard him bitching all the time when I had to drive ten hours with him."

I ignore the blame and hold up my chin dignifiedly. They have no idea. The world isn't engulfed in hellfire yet, life seems to go on normally all around them, restaurants are still serving pizza and Humanity is living in blissful ignorance, but the end is near all the same. We're only a few months, perhaps even weeks away from the Apocalypse and the complete extinction of their species.

Time is running out and I can't waste it watching them sleeping, eating and vainly typing on their computer keys. I can't possibly enjoy the time I spend with them when I know that every passing second leads them to a definite and horribly cruel death.

"Lucifer has taken possession of a body until he gets yours, Sam." I look into his eyes to emphasize how serious the situation is. "He won't settle with it for long. Last night I managed to keep him out of your dreams, but the danger is still there. When he finds you, I fear what he'll do to you to get you to say yes."

I look over at Dean, whose eyes have darkened and his jaw is set.

"And I know Michael, he won't go easy on you either, Dean."

There is a long silence, filled with the chatter of conversations in the restaurant and the clinking of knives and forks on plates. Through the window, the September sky is clear blue, in no way warning that this world is about to be engulfed in flames.

Wings flapping, a crow lands on the parking lot, pecking at a piece of burger left on the ground.

Throat clearing.

"Wow, Cas. You sure know how to cheer us up."

"I'm trying to save you from your own destiny. Would you rather have me lying to you?"

The brothers share a look I can't decipher, interrupted by a waiter carrying a pitcher who fills Dean's glass to the brim again and walks away after informing us that our food will be ready in ten minutes.

"If that demon is anti-Lucifer and hides because he's scared of him…" Sam muses, his thumb tracing his chin. "It'd only benefit him if we take the risk of shooting Lucifer with the Colt for him. Perhaps all we need to do is spread the word to the demons that we're looking for him?"

I shake my head.

"I've already thought of this, and I doubt he's much liked by other demons these days. He's exiled and hunted by his own kind, just like I am."

Only as I say these words do I realize how striking the similarity is. That demon and I both oppose Fate and have rebelled against our side.

If only we could find him and talk to him, we could probably reach an agreement.

oOo

"How many demons are we talking here?"

Getting ready, Sam frowns and takes one last look at his laptop screen before slamming it shut.

"About fifty," he says, getting up from the bed. "Maybe sixty. That's all Tamara could tell me in her mail."

Dean raises his eyebrows as he checks his gun charger and holy water flask.

"How come Tamara knows about such a huge gathering of demons? I thought she'd left the business after Isaac's death."

Sam tucks his dagger under his belt once his laces are tied.

"She did. That's why she's letting us know but won't be coming with us. She only found out because one of her childhood friends left a disturbing message on social networks, which was deleted after an hour, and no one but Tamara took it seriously."

"Okay." Dean heaves the strap of his weapons-packed bag onto his shoulder. "So the plan's simple: we sneak into this insurance company, kidnap a demon and go interrogate him somewhere else where no one can bother us."

"Why not just kill them all except one?"

My voice cuts them short, and they both turn their eyes to me, almost as if they've forgotten I'm there. They share a glance and Sam raises an eyebrow.

"Well, we do have a demon-killing blade, but we'll be outnumbered against sixty or so demons…"

"I fought tens of thousands of demons to get your brother out of Hell. Even stripped of some of my powers, sixty ordinary demons are no match for me. Let's go."

With a flick of my wrist, I open the hotel room door from a distance and stride out. The brothers follow suit and I hear Dean stifle a laugh.

"How about that, Sammy? We got our very own Terminator now!"

Outside, the sky is heavy with dark clouds and there's mist in the air, covering the three cars parked in the parking lot with a glistening veil. Dean opens the driver's side door, but as I reach out to do the same on the other side, my fingers meet Sam's already on the handle.

We both freeze and our eyes meet. The look of surprise on his face quickly turns to annoyance and obstinacy.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asks, tightening his grip on the half-open door.

Does he believe that his weak fingers can stop me? I technically don't even need the door, I could just materialize right on the seat.

"This is my place. Up front. Next to Dean."

He narrows his eyes as he towers over me, an irritated pout forming on his lips.

"No, it's mine. Always has been."

"Not since you went out of business. It's mine now."

Replicating the human gesture Lavavoth had used, I raised my hands to draw quotation marks with my fingers.

"Guests go to the back. Tell him, Dean!"

I don't know why it upsets me so much not to be sitting next to Dean anymore. Maybe it's those road-trip hours in the front seat, with my newfound fascination for Dean's profile I used to peer out of the corner of my eye. After all I've sacrificed for those two Humans, it would be an insult to be sent to the back seat.

With his forearm resting casually perched on the top of his open car door, Dean watched our argument with a smirk on his lips.

"Sorry, Cas. Seniority prevails, Sam's butt shape is imprinted into the seat."

Throwing me a triumphant glare, Sam opens the car door defiantly and sits where I should be. Outraged, I press my lips together and open the back door to sit there. From this place, all I can see is the back of Dean's neck and Sam's long hair.

"I don't understand why you insist on using the car, Dean. You know perfectly well I could get you both to your destination in a split second."

"I get airsick," Dean says, turning the key to make the engine roar. "And my baby needs to get some exercise too. Besides, it's less than a fifteen-minute drive from here."

The vehicle moves forward and Dean's hands slide on the steering wheel, leading us out of the parking lot and onto the road marked with the two lines of yellow paint I've observed all over the country.

"How does that work exactly?" Sam asks, turning his head to look at me. "From a physics point of view, how can you cover miles in less than a second? You can't possibly go faster than the speed of light, right?"

It would be tempting not to answer, as retaliation for stealing my place next to Dean. But this is the kind of question Dean never asked me and it's pleasing to have a Human showing some interest in the range of my powers.

"Technically, I'm made of sound waves and light, so it's not impossible. Using a vessel like this one…"

I look down and run my hand down my tie to designate the flesh and blood body I inhabit.

"… allows me to more efficiently focus my energy at a nuclear level and move through atoms. In my true form, I'm much slower, and it would take me about ten minutes to circle the planet."

Sam looks thoughtful, frowning.

"When we spoke to Jimmy, the guy you're possessing… He told us that having an angel inside is like being strapped to a comet. Is he feeling everything that's happening to you? Can he see us right now and hear everything we're saying?"

"No. Jimmy died along with me when Raphael killed me."

I avert my eyes, watching the few drops of water quiver on the window with the wind and the speed. The grey landscape is strewn with factory buildings and gas stations.

"When I came back to life, his soul was gone. I found out shortly after that it had risen to Heaven. It's technically impossible for an Angel to inhabit a soulless body, which strengthened my conviction that God resurrected me. Only a higher power could achieve such a miracle."

"So Jimmy's gone? It's only you in there?"

Dean's voice sounds hasty, he seems genuinely keen to know.

"It's only me, yes. I don't know what would happen if I were to leave this body for another. I assume it would rot like any other corpse. Or maybe it would stay in a comatose, brain-dead state."

Dean heaves a deep sigh, and the tension in his shoulders relaxes.

"Okay, good. It's better this way."

"How is it better that the poor guy is dead and will never see his wife and daughter again?" Sam asks in a skeptical tone.

Dean nervously taps the steering wheel.

"No, I'm just saying it's for the best that he no longer has to endure being possessed and all the stuff Cas sees or does, that's all... I kinda forgot about Jimmy lately and I'm relieved to know he wasn't around to see and hear everything that happened."

Is he blushing? I think he is. I can't be sure from behind, but his cheeks seem to have flushed, eclipsing the freckles on his skin.

"Why are you blushing?"

Sam asked the question before I had a chance, but Dean ignores it, clearing his throat loudly before plucking out a sound tape and shoving it into the device.

"Time for some Led Zeppelin!"

The Travelling Riverside Blues song he frequently played on our road-trip starts, and Dean increases the volume so much that no conversation is possible for the rest of the trip. As Dean predicted, it's a rather brief drive this time.

The car bumps up to the sidewalk and the engine shuts off. The doors open with a creak, and I step out of the confined space to look up at the three-storey building in front of us.

"It reeks of sulfur," I say, narrowing my eyes. "You were right, Sam, there's definitely a demonic presence here."

"You can already smell it?" he frowns, sniffing the air. "I can't smell anything."

"My senses are far more developed than yours."

"Ready?" Dean loads his shotgun with salt. "Cas goes first and we cover him."

I nod and walk towards the double glass door, which opens automatically as I approach. We enter a wide hall, with a reception desk directly in front of us.

"Wait. There's something wrong…" Dean whispers.

Indeed, it becomes clear as we get closer that the three receptionists are dead. They lie motionless in their seats, their heads slumped down on the desk. More importantly…

"Their eye sockets are burned out!" Sam exclaims, leaning over one of them.

Indeed, the empty eye sockets are charred to ashes, revealing the inside of the skull glowing with smoldering, red-hot embers. It happened recently.

It can't be good.

"This is the work of an Angel!" I shout in alarm. "Dean, Sam, you need to get away NOW! If the Angels are still here, we can't let them find you!"

But when I turn to face them, the Winchester brothers stand frozen like statues. Sam is still leaning over the receptionist, mouth parted like he's about to speak, and Dean has his finger on the trigger, squinting and looking across the hall.

Time stopped. I can feel it in the fabric of time and space, and I'm not the one who's doing it.

"Hello, Castiel."

How did I not detect this celestial aura earlier? I've been reckless. I was so overwhelmed by the stench of sulfur that I didn't notice it.

Deliberately slow, I turn to face the Angel standing there, with his wings tucked behind his back, wearing a black suit and yellow tie. Now that I'm fully concentrated, I can tell he's alone. But he could summon backup at any time through celestial communication channels.

Although the aura feels somewhat familiar, I don't think I know this Angel. He's not one of my soldiers, nor a member of the Council, nor one of Raphael's followers that I know of. His vessel is a man in his thirties or forties, with dark skin and dark hair down to his collarbones. On his face, with aquiline nose and almond-shaped eyes, the shadow of a smile tugs at his lips.

"I was hoping to cross your path by tracking down demon clusters in this area. And finally I found you."

My swirling Grace solidifies into a blade in my forearm and pierces the skin, sliding out of the vein to fall into the palm of my hand.

"I won't let you have the Winchesters," I snarl, stepping forward to shield them. "Touch one single hair on their head and I'll kill you, just like I killed everyone else who tried."

The Angel doesn't look too worried about my weapon or my threat. He merely glances at Sam and Dean as though he hadn't noticed their presence before I mentioned them.

"I'm not here for them. I'm on your side, Castiel. And like I once told you, I'm not the only one."

He takes a step forward, but halts when I tighten my grip on my blade and intensify my threatening aura. His smile falters and he tilts his head to one side, looking almost... pained.

"Don't you remember me? We met two thousand years ago, shortly before Camael's death. I'm Inias."

I lower my blade warily. This could be one of Raphael's ploys. But why should he waste his time scheming when all he has to do is seize us here and now? We're in no position to escape if an army were to surround us right now...

"What do you want?"

Inias holds his head high, feathers puffing out on his wings.

"To help you lead the revolution, overthrow the Council and free us from the Archangels' tyranny."

He walks to me, speaking with the same intensity Anpiel showed before she was sent to rehabilitation.

"You showed us the way, Castiel. By bringing you back to life, God chose you to guide us. To set us all free, and to smite the tyrants who have been giving us orders in His name for thousands of years."

I let my blade flow back into my Grace, seeping through the skin's pores.

This is what I've been hoping for months. That was the mission I gave Anpiel, which Balthazar rejected. Raising an army and leading a rebellion in Heaven was my initial plan from the moment I was brought back to life, and I had come to believe that it would never happen.

What Inias is offering me is a rare opportunity, one I can't afford to miss. If we fail to find the Colt, or if it turns out to be inefficient, not all hope will be lost.

"We're already hundreds ready to follow you," Inias declares. "Will you lead us?"

"I will."

My voice sounds strong and confident, like when I was still General of the Garrison.

A smile lights up Inias' human face, revealing his teeth.

"Perfect. We'll be waiting for you at first light on the hill where Camael was executed."

And with a powerful flap of his wings, Inias is gone, and the time flow resumes its course like nothing happened.

"Do you think the angels did this?" Sam's voice rises behind me.

"Shit, Cas, don't go teleporting around without warning, you scared the hell out of me!"

I turn around and meet Dean's scolding gaze. From his point of view, I vanished and reappeared six feet away for no reason. It's probably best not to tell them about the conversation I've just had with Inias. Not until I've met these Angels who, according to Inias, are willing to follow me and lead a revolution.

"All demons here are already dead. There's nothing more for us to do here."

"Wait a minute, Cas, care to tell us what the hell happened here? Did your brothers do this or not?"

They join me in three strides. In just a few hours, dawn will break over the Mount Golgotha where Camael died on the cross. I need to plan what I'm going to tell them, and what I'm going to do if it's an ambush.

Perhaps I should ask Zedekiel about Inias, he'll probably know more than I do.…

"I have no time to explain now, but you'll have to keep looking for the Colt on your own for a while. I have something very important to do."

"What?! But…"

"I'll be in touch by phone."

Leaving them no time to protest, I fly off with a strong flap of my wings to Jerusalem.

oOo

In the next chapter

"Stay here, with me. With us."