Chapter V

Researching Angels

"Hello, Dean." A pause. "Son of a—"

No more sounds followed.

Sam pulled his phone from his ear and frowned at it, seeing the call not going through anymore. He didn't recognize the man's voice that suddenly cut in. His brother was also obviously startled by whoever it was. Could it be a hotel service or something?

Sam pressed the button to redial and waited patiently for those few seconds until it connected. Only for it to disconnect immediately. Frustrated, he pressed the redial button again.

"This is Dean Winchester. If this is an emergency, leave a me—"

Sam shut the voicemail off and pursed his lips into a thin line. Who was that? Who was the owner of that unfamiliar voice? And why Dean's phone was off now?

"What happened?" Bobby asked from where he was sitting on the old wooden table. Various tools and magic ingredients lay on top of it.

They were in the middle of an old, abandoned barn, surrounded by myriads of devil traps and protection symbols from all kinds of religions and beliefs painted on its walls and floor.

"Someone seemed to startle Dean," Sam replied as he continued to glare at his phone as if it was its fault. "And now his phone is off."

Bobby jumped off the table, suddenly alert. "Have any idea who that someone is?"

Sam shook his head, finally pushing his phone back into his pocket. "We have to go back," he said as he grabbed the demon-killing knife from the table next to him. "Dean might be in trouble."

Bobby nodded. It was quite obvious that the summoning failed—they had been sitting here for an hour and no one showed up.

Or maybe someone did, just in the wrong place.

The same thought circled in both their heads, so Sam and Bobby hurried to collect weapons and other things that might be useful and rushed to their car.

Dean stared at his phone in dismay. He hoped Sam wouldn't misunderstand, but he totally did, didn't he?

"We need to talk, Dean."

Dean looked at the man that appeared out of nowhere. A suit with a loose tie and a trench coat on top, black disheveled hair, and a blank expression gave the stranger quite a messy appearance. He didn't recognize his face, but he certainly was familiar with his presence. He clung to it as a desperate soul he was on his way out of Hell and he often felt it looming around him after he returned to Earth.

The brave Seraph warrior who brought him out of the Pit. His younger brother. Castiel.

He had never met the younger angel before when he was Michael, but he knew about him. Extremely loyal and a good soldier, never questioning his orders, Castiel was one of the youngest garrison captains.

Dean instinctively tucked his grace closer to his soul. Too early to reveal his true identity. He didn't know which side Castiel supported in this joke of a plan, was the angel genuinely trying to stop the Apocalypse or simply pretending to. Michael's grace was incomplete and so far from its true form, Castiel wouldn't recognize him anyway and think that another angel took over the Archangel's true vessel. Regardless of his allegiance, neither side would be happy to know that.

He would never admit that he also hated to appear weak. He would rather be taken as a human being with all their inherent fragility than the underpowered Archangel that couldn't even put up a fight against a common angel, not to mention a Seraph. The mere thought of it made Dean deeply uncomfortable.

He was startled when his phone rang. It had to be Sam calling him back. Dean was about to flip his phone open, ready to explain to his brother that he was fine and no, nothing bad happened.

Castiel waved his hand.

And the phone died. Energy zapped out of its battery in an instant.

"Did you have to do that?" Dean couldn't help but complain as he motioned helplessly at his now useless phone.

"We need to talk," Castiel repeated, his brow crinkling for a fraction of what seemed to be impatience. "Alone."

Dean dragged his hand down his face with a groan. It felt like he was doing this very often lately, but who could fault him? People around him kept doing stupid things, and if he knew Sam and Bobby—and he definitely did—then they were going to show up guns blazing sooner or later.

Despite his frustration, his chest warmed at the thought of someone being protective of him. It had been so long for Michael to feel this way. Not since he rejected Lucifer so many years ago.

"Fine," Dean exhaled, expelling the last line of thought out of his head with more force than was necessary. "Let's talk." He threw his phone on the bed and gave Castiel his undivided attention. "You know, now when my ears aren't bleeding."

Castiel's gaze dropped to the ground. "That was my mistake. Apologies," he said before looking back at Dean with those intense blue eyes. "I am… surprised that you can perceive my true voice, but it still has hurt you."

Dean shrugged. His body was human through and through, but he could also hear the other angels' chatter in the corner of his mind, so for him, it didn't seem that weird. "Doesn't matter now," he dismissed it with a hand wave. "Better tell me, why would an angel rescue me from Hell?"

With a slight tilt of his head to one side, Castiel narrowed his eyes. "You know who I am."

"I remember the being that lifted me out of the hot box. Figured that it can't be anything else but an angel."

"You remember?" Castiel echoed, his gaze intensifying even more. "Most intriguing."

Dean folded his arms in front of his chest almost defensively. He couldn't let his sibling think about it for too long lest he would start to suspect something. "Why'd you do it?"

The angel straightened up, his curious expression melting back into his previous, stoic one. "Because God commanded it," he said. "Because we have work for you."

Right. God.

Dean had wondered if the mishap in his plan was his missing Father's doing. After all, the plan was to stay human only for one cycle, and he specifically inscribed a single fragment of his grace with the order to find its way to him so that he could regain his memories. Well, considering that he carried that fragment with him for almost his entire life as Dean, that part of the plan worked to a certain extent and the inscribed piece most likely followed him throughout all of his reincarnations. He just never regained his memories. Not until Castiel's grace made contact with his soul as he snatched him from Hell.

Such timing screamed deliberate interference, no matter how hard he thought about it.

If the failure in his plan was due to God's intervention and not simply because of his miscalculation, Dean had to wonder what exactly his Father tried to achieve by this course of action.

"And, uh," Dean cleared his throat, "did God give you that order personally?" Because if He did, it would change everything.

"I am a common soldier," Castiel replied, furrowing his brow. "The order was given by God through the chain of command."

Dean gave him a blank stare.

Father probably was still absent from Heaven. It meant that the order didn't come from Him personally, at least not at the current time. He did write the Apocalypse plan out a long time ago, but only the highest echelon of the Host knew it.

Someone at the top kick-started the Apocalypse all by themselves. As far as Dean knew, with him gone, Raphael should have taken the rule of Heaven. The order must have come from him.

But then again, his Father loved humanity and at the same time, he made the plan to destroy it. Something didn't add up here.

The Righteous Man who began it was the only one who could finish it—it was part of God's plan, something He intended.

Maybe Michael's reincarnation as Dean Winchester was also part of His plan, the one He had never shared with his children. Even if it was, Dean had no idea what Father expected from him. Utterly aggravating. After eons of telling them what to do, He suddenly decided to wash His hands off.

With a bitter taste of betrayal on his tongue, Dean muttered, "What exactly do you want me to do…?" under his breath.

The angel must have assumed that the question was intended for him, because he replied with a firm, "We need you to be prepared."

Dean raised his eyebrow. "Prepared for what?"

A deep frown creased Castiel's face, and his wings twitched where they were folded behind his back.

Of course, this wasn't their true form. Once the angel had taken over the vessel, incased their entire being in flesh and blood, their wings also went through a transformation to fit their owner's current form. Human vessels and the new physical form that the wings gained were the two major factors that inspired many past artists to create the image of angels known to people to this day.

However, Dean could barely make out the shape of Castiel's wings due to their intangible state. Until he found the second piece of this grace, his senses lacked the strength to actually see the wings of other angels even when they weren't actively hiding them. Only the third piece and getting the first pair of his own wings back would finally let Dean see through most angels' active concealment.

"There is a war coming," Castiel said finally, "and you're—"

The room door slammed open with enough force to almost tear it off its hinges. Sam rushed in with Bobby following right after, aiming shotguns at Castiel.

"Get away from Dean!"

Dean stood there, caught completely by surprise at the explosive entrance of those two. Before he could react, Sam already crossed the room and pulled him by his arm to his side, pushing him slightly behind him, features set in a familiar bitch face at the same time because Dean didn't try to move away himself.

Bobby scanned Dean up and down to make sure he was okay, but didn't linger too much on him for now. There was a stranger in the room that he had to keep his eyes on.

It was such a novel feeling, that Dean allowed himself to bask in it. Sure, Sam and, to a lesser extent, Bobby had protected him in the past, but it happened in the past, and while he recalled those moments, he didn't have his real memories back then. It felt different now.

Being the oldest and the strongest, it fell on Michael to protect his other siblings. Even among the Archangels, he took the protector's role all the time and no one questioned it. It simply was how it was supposed to be. The only brother who had ever shown protective inclinations towards him was Lucifer.

And Michael betrayed him.

Dean shoved that thought away. This was neither time nor place to think about it.

"What did you do to Dean?!" Sam demanded, his weapon still steadily trained on the angel.

So utterly unconcerned about their threats of violence, Castiel saw no need to even move and calmly replied, "I gripped him tight and raised him from perdition."

That gave both of them a pause. Their guards never went down, neither did their shotguns.

Sam's jaw clenched. "Who are you?!"

"I am Castiel."

"We figured that much," Bobby snapped. "What are you?"

Castiel cocked his head to the side, and Dean almost did the same as a particularly loud voice rang throughout the angels' mental connection. Someone commanded Castiel to return. His wings spread out, ready for a flight.

A lightning struck outside, illuminating the room. One, then another, and another. A shadowy silhouette of a pair of huge wings appeared on the walls behind the angel.

Sam and Bobby's eyes widened, jaws going slack. Dean only thought that whoever Castiel's superior was, he was a dick by rushing him to come back by throwing a lightning bolt right after giving the command.

"I am an angel of the Lord," Castiel said and vanished with a soft fluttering sound.

"Wha—" was all that came out of Sam's mouth. He blinked, blinked again, then turned around, scanning the room, searching for the angel.

Bobby didn't fare any better. He stared at the spot where Castiel was standing and it looked like he barely held himself from lifting the carpet to check if he hid under it.

Dean couldn't smother a grin at their reaction. "Yeah, pretty sure the angel is gone now."

The eyes of the other two men were instantly on him.

A few seconds ticked by. Dean let them gather themselves.

Sam blew the air out of his lungs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"That was an angel?" Bobby asked as if needing verbal confirmation for his brain to work through that fact.

Dean shrugged nonchalantly. "You've seen the wings."

They certainly did.

"I can't believe it," Sam murmured, his tone swirling with awe. "You were right, Dean. Angels are real."

Watching his baby brother's sparkling eyes and a dopey smile spreading across his face, Dean's eyes softened as he shelved the slight sadness in his chest. Angels were far from the kind and virtuous image Sammy had of them and soon he was going to find it out himself.

Sam shifted under his gaze. "What?"

"Nothing, I'm just, uh..." Dean suddenly chuckled. "Just remembered the way you two burst in like my knights in shining armor. It was beautiful. Truly. I'm touched."

Sam's bitch face was in full effect. "And what are you supposed to be? A princess? A pretty damsel in distress?"

"I might be pretty," Dean smirked, "but ain't a damsel in distress."

"Shut up, jerk."

"Bitch."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Idjits."

Sprawled on the couch, Dean flipped the page of the thick book in his lap, skimmed the text, and clicked his tongue. This was bullshit. Exactly that he said to the others, "This one's a bust." He threw the book to the other side of the couch with an almost disgusted jerk. "Just a load of crap."

Bobby shot him an impatient glare from behind the wall of various tomes and books piled on his desk.

Sam didn't even deign his brother with a smidge of his attention. He sat on the chair, an open book in his hand as he perused it with furrowed brow in deep concentration.

Right after returning from Pontiac to Bobby's place, they dived into thorough research about angels. Well, 'dived into research' was a fancy way to say that they were lazing around and reading books.

Dean was about to go crazy from boredom.

"And how exactly do you decide what's crap and what's not?" Bobby asked.

"It's said that Archangel Michael and his angels fought against the dragon in Heaven and hurdled it down*." Dean huffed, throwing his arms across the backrest of the couch and making himself comfortable. He never fought against any dragon as far as he could remember. "There are no dragons in Heaven."

On second thought, maybe he did. He fought against Leviathans during their banishment to Purgatory. Only it happened when the Universe was still in its primitive form, before Heaven was even created. And not exactly dragons as humans imagined them, but if any creature could fit the bill that would be those bastards.

Bobby looked at him incredulously. "How do you know that?"

Dean paused. Ah, he said it as if he knew something about Heaven. "We're talking about dragons here," he generalized instead. "Dragons don't exist."

"Yesterday we thought angels didn't exist," Sam muttered with his eyes still glued to the book.

Dean shrugged in sort of agreement. He really had nothing to retort this time.

"And besides, I don't think the book was talking about a real dragon," Sam continued. "Most likely, it was referring to Lucifer."

"Wait," Bobby chimed in. "Lucifer? Like, the Devil Lucifer?"

"Yeah. Listen to this. The Archangel Michael, the Prince of Angels and verily the eldest of all entities within the vast expanse of Creation, whose wings are hued like the fiery shades of the setting sun; the Archangel Lucifer, the Light Bearer and the second eldest of all entities within the vast expanse of Creation, whose pure white wings shine serene as the gentle glow of the moon," he read, tracing the line in the book with his finger. "There are two more Archangels—Raphael and Gabriel—and the four of them have the highest say in Heaven. Or, had, before Lucifer rebelled against God and, through his pride, coveted the Throne of God and the worship that belonged to God alone. This resulted in a mighty war in Heaven. Lucifer, along with one-third of the angelic host was defeated by the Archangel Michael and his angels and was cast down from Heaven to Earth where he became known as 'Satan', 'Adversary' as well as 'Devil'."

Dean stomped on a growing displeasure at hearing the last passage. It seemed the information either got twisted or embellished by humans on purpose to vilify Lucifer, because his brother had never wanted to take over Father's place or His worship. He might have been full of pride, as they all were, but all he ever wanted was Father's love back. And with Michael turning his back on him, Lucifer must have felt driven to a corner and lashed out in the only way he thought would work.

But, well, Lucifer rebelling because he felt neglected by his Father didn't sound as grand and malicious as rebelling because he coveted the Throne of God.

"That raises a sticky question," Bobby said after a while. "If angels exist, does that mean the Devil is real, too?"

Sam screwed his face like he suddenly tasted something very sour.

Dean shifted. "Maybe that guy, uh, Michael will help us deal with him again," he suggested, a bit awkwardly, and then quickly tagged at the end, "If both of them exist, that is."

Sam didn't appear very optimistic about that prospect when he mumbled, "Maybe."

Huh. Dean thought that if anyone would have faith in angels it would be Sam. He had been so stoked about meeting the real angel, why did he sound so skeptical now?

"I mean, we don't know much about angels, maybe they're just a bunch of dicks with wings," Dean said, not feeling guilty about insulting his own siblings in the slightest. Some of them deserved that. "But who knows if this Michael isn't on our side?"

Sam sighed and finally looked up from the book. "Look," he began, "I'm not saying that the Archangel Michael won't fight the Devil again if they truly exist and it comes to that, but considering all this lore on him…" He motioned to the book in his hands. "Doesn't sound like he's very kind to humans."

Dean stared. Not very kind to humans? What bullshit. He saved or helped a lot of people during his life, be it Michael's or Dean's. He was currently very human himself. Of course, Sam didn't know it, but still hearing his brother say that he wasn't kind to humans upset him.

Sam wasn't done though. "He's known as the Wrath of Heaven," he continued, flipping a few pages of the book back. "As a patron angel of righteousness and justice, the Archangel Michael can rain the Fire of Judgment upon those he deems sinners and unworthy of mercy and salvation."

Sure, humans gave him all those intimidating titles instead of something benign like Divine Healer that Raphael received or something cute like Heaven's Messenger that Gabriel was known for, and, sure, he could do all that, but it still didn't make him a bad guy.

"Some lore states that Michael was behind the destruction of the ancient city of Babylon**," Bobby added, very unhelpfully.

Dean couldn't hold it in anymore and blurted out, "Oh, c'mon!" Babylon wasn't even his doing! Raphael and his squad of destruction went on the rampage back then, how come he got blamed for it? They never destroyed an entire city either, just a part where their government resided. Mostly. This still was pure slander at this point!

Realizing that Sam and Bobby were staring weirdly at him now, he cleared his throat and said, "You're judging the guy before you even know him."

Sam sighed in that particular way when Dean had been stupidly slow on the uptake. "I'm just saying, we've done a lot of shitty things in our lives and this Archangel Michael doesn't seem like the guy who would easily forgive and forget."

There was something in his voice, his words, his body language that bothered Dean. He narrowed his eyes, shifting his senses to feel the kid's soul. Ah. "Do you think of yourself as unworthy of salvation, Sammy?" the question left his mouth before he could think it through.

Sam froze, before his eyes snapped up to look at his brother. Numerous emotions flashed through them and then settled on one—defensiveness.

"It's easy for you to talk, Mr. My-ass-was-touched-by-an-angel," Bobby grumbled, concentrating on the book on his desk again.

Dean frowned. "Castiel didn't touch my ass."

The corner of Sam's lips twitched up. "He said he 'gripped you tight'," he quipped, emphasizing the last three words.

Dean's mouth opened, about to argue, but then closed it again. When Castiel carried him out of Hell, he was only a soul, fully encompassed and caressed by his grace. It wouldn't be a surprise if he did accidentally touch his ass.

Did a human soul even have an ass?

Sam's smirk widened into a small grin at seeing Dean so seriously pondering this question. Bobby also snorted and shook his head in amusement.

Catching himself focusing on such stupid things, Dean groaned as he flopped against the couch and threw an arm over his eyes. Being a human and an angel was starting to mess with his head. "I need some pie…" he muttered.

Still sporting a smile, Sam put his book on the desk and stood up. "I'll do a grocery run," he volunteered.

"Don't forget the pie!" Dean yelled after him as he walked out of the room to grab the car keys.

"Dude!" Sam shouted back. "When have I ever forgotten the pie?!"

Sam gripped the driving wheel so hard his knuckles went white, the same question going round and round inside his head.

'Do you think of yourself as unworthy of salvation, Sammy?'

The memories of his past sins kept flooding his mind like a relentless tide. The faces of those he had wronged and the lives he had shattered haunted him, each one a ghostly reminder of his failings. The weight of his actions bore down on him, a burden almost too heavy to bear. Every mistake, every moment of weakness, seemed to scream that he was beyond redemption.

Not to mention the demon blood that coursed through his veins.

Not even an angel would be willing to grant him forgiveness.

Sam scoffed at his line of thoughts. Why was he even musing about it? It was a pointless endeavor, this self-flagellation. He had no plans to stop what he was doing with Ruby, regardless of his doubts about his actions. He was saving people, stopping demons. This had to count for something, right?

'Do you think of yourself as unworthy of salvation, Sammy?'

Yet, this damn question lingered, like an itch he couldn't scratch. Was there a path to redemption for someone like him? Could he ever wash away the stain of his sins?

Sam's grip tightened even more, the wheel creaking under the pressure. He thought of Dean, of sacrifices his brother made for him, of the pain they both went through, and of the battles yet to come. There was no room for doubt, no time for self-pity.

Noticing Ruby as soon as the Impala rolled into the grocery shop's parking lot, Sam shoved his thoughts away, climbed out, and quickly walked towards her. The demon was observing him intently, her eyes darting around almost as if she had expected someone to swoop down upon her. If Sam didn't know better, he would have assumed that Ruby was frightened.

"Where have you been, Ruby?" he questioned as he approached. "I called you, but you never picked up your phone."

"Yeah, about that…" Ruby glanced around once again, then pulled Sam behind the corner for more privacy, and demanded, "Is it true?"

"Is what true?"

"Was it an angel who rescued Dean from Hell?"

Sam blinked. News spread fast, huh. "You heard."

"Who hasn't?!"

Sam raised an eyebrow at her outburst.

Taking a deep breath, Ruby forced herself to calm down and then explained, "I went to investigate Dean's gravesite. No demon or any other creature can take a step in that place now. It's more purified than the Vatican itself. No other being I know can swing that. And…" she trailed off, chewing on her lower lip.

"And?" Sam prompted when she didn't continue.

Ruby looked him dead in the eye. "And I heard a gossip that Heaven's army laid siege on Hell."

"Whoa, whoa, wait." He had a hard time wrapping his mind around this piece of information. "A siege on Hell? To save Dean?"

"So, it's true, after all?" Ruby whispered, face pale. After a moment, she brushed her fingers through her hair in a nervous gesture. "No wonder Dean felt so strange…"

Sam's heart sank as dread slowly crawled under his skin. "What do you mean?" he asked. "Something's wrong with my brother?"

"He's…" Ruby cut herself off, her lips forming a thin line and she knitted her brow in thought. "His soul was purified, cleansed by an angel. He's… untainted now. No human soul I've seen has such purity. Even newborns have some taint left from their previous lives."

"Okay," Sam said, trying to grasp what the demon just revealed and why she seemed so on edge. "That's not a bad thing though?"

Ruby's eyes shifted to the side and for a moment she was silent. "Dean's an enigma and that's scaring me."

The confession was quiet, unsure, but Sam heard it and it was so utterly unexpected, he couldn't believe his ears. "What?" he asked, his tone incredulous and his lips curling up into a smile because that had to be a joke. It had to be. "You're kidding, right?"

Ruby gave him a blank look. "And the angels… they scare the holy hell out of me. They don't tolerate anyone they deem evil or sinful. They won't care if someone is being helpful, they'll smite first and will never stop to ask any questions," she continued. "Angels aren't the merciful type, Sam. Watch yourself."

Sam scoffed. "I'm not scared of angels."

"You should be," the demon stated before turning around and quickly walking away.

* - passage from Revelation 12:7-9

** - Judaic lore

A/N

Did a human soul even have an ass?

Important things to think about, Michael, amirite?

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