Supernatural 1. Chapter 1: The Beginning

The night was cold, moonlight shining upon the armor clad men that laid upon the ground in their canvas tents as they laid to rest for the night. They had been away from their homes for three months now, and the men knew they would be away from their homes for many more, perhaps even years. They knew not of their true mission, but that is was an act of God's will to crusade across the lands of Europe and convert the people who roamed the lands of the one true god, the one that blessed them with life and gave them his one and only son so that they may be saved from original sin. Fires licked at the air as they swallowed the oxygen that bore them life in the abyss of the night that crept the dusk like a snake crawled across the earth upon it's belly. The exhausted men sat around these many embers, telling tales of home to their fellow soldiers. They ate and drank at their victory of the battle they had fought the night before, blood shed upon the innocent twilight that they had stormed, while others mourned their fallen comrades. One soldier in particular preferred to sit alone, away from the camp. His dark hair and piercing blue eyes cut through the fragile vale of the night, standing watch to ambushes of the crusaders.

"I know you are there brother, you may show yourself." He didn't even move his gaze as a male in a white tunic appeared before the man.

"Hello brother, I see that the crusade is going well?" the stranger with the glowing halo upon his blonde crown said with a somewhat smug smirk. His wings glowed with what could only be described or compared to the finest threads of gold. All six of them out stretched and shining with holy light, but the man knew only his eyes could bare witness to their grace.

"It is going as ordered to, but I still have doubt Gabriel, why would father wish for the slaughtering of his people? Why would father order upon his creations to command his existence upon the pagans who have done nothing wrong?" The man questioned Gabriel, messenger of God and one of the archangels.

Gabriel slumped his shoulders and his lips curled into a scowl, "Are you questioning our father's commands, Castiel? Have you no faith?" Gabriel watched him with his angelic stare, piercing through Castiel's mind.

The man who was named Castiel perked up and stood, retaliating, "I have faith in our father, yes, but this, this is not the work of any father of mine." He bit the inside of his cheek, holding in his anger of the accusation of treason . "I love our father just as much as you Gabriel, but doesn't this seem unlike father?"

"Are you forgetting the great flood, Castiel? The one that nearly wiped the human race extinct? If Noah had no faith in our father as the other humans, he to would be swept away along with their sins. And what of the Jews trapped in Egypt as slaves and the forty years they roamed in the harshness of the desert. If they had no faith, they too would have perished. Have faith Castiel, for our father is a wrathful God, and will see to the bloodshed of the humans as he sees fit. Now go, lead these men into battle and do not question any further, or Raphael himself will see to it that your wings be clipped and halo removed atop your head." and with that, the archangel was gone, leaving Castiel's sapphire eyes to be tainted with the rust of doubt and fear of their father. He blinked a few times and soon, the rust of doubt was cleared and replaced with the empty faith of a soldier who believed he was fighting for the greater good.

But deep down Castiel knew that he was different, and this was wrong, but he need not question the actions and ordered of his father. For he, was merely an angel, a soldier of god, and a servant of man.

Castiel arose from his spot, his iron armor clanking and ringing out like victory chimes. He adjusted his blade and healed all of his vessel's wounds, ready to lead his army into the city of Zara, a port that had once been controlled economically by Venice, pledged its alliance to King Emeric of Hungary after rebelling. He sighed and stood tall amongst his fellow knights. He made his walk to the center of the camp grounds, standing atop a carriage that stored supplies for their journey. He yelled for the men's attention, receiving it immediately. Knights stopped their chatter, nurses ceasing the intensive care and stepped out of their tents, and foot soldiers stopping in their feasting. All heads turned to Castiel, silence striking the Earth.

"Cavalieri! Compagni! Fratelli! Ascoltami ora! Noi siamo qui per il nostro Dio e Padre desidera che il suo nome sia conosciuto , per sapere che è l'unico vero Dio! Chiedo a voi ora, di avere fede, perché fornirà. Uomini , mi prestano la vostra forza! Ci serviremo sotto il nostro Signore, e diffondere il suo santo nome! Dio è la nostra forza!

[Knights! Comrades! Brothers! Hear me now! We are here for our god and father wishes for his name to be known, to know he is the one true god! I ask of you now, to have faith, for he will provide. Men, lend me your strength! We will serve under our Lord, and spread his holy name! God is our strength!]

The men shouted with a war cry as they repeated over and over, "Dio è la nostra forza! Dio è la nostra forza!" Castiel smiled a bit, but just enough that no one would noticed in the dim light of the moon or the orange tongues of the flames. He removed himself from the supply cart and made his way to his tent, staying silent to the men who clamored all around him, praising him of his speech in thick Italian. He retired to his canvas tent, removing his heavy clad armor and shined his blade. He looked down in its reflection, frowning at the man he saw, the man he WORE for these soldiers.

He was known by the name of Angelo De Novak, a descendant of a Venetian maiden and a German soldier. The man named Angelo was Venice born and a wonderful man who was a true believer of God. As he took Castiel in as his vessel, he did it with open arms, knowing that he would be serving god as he was always meant to, even if that meant leaving his wife and son behind. Castiel felt pity for the man, knowing that he most likely would not return to his family. He scowled at the reflection, sheathing his blade and looked up towards the heavens, praying to himself.

"Father I hope this bloodshed and sacrifice will please you." He looked down at the pendant around his neck, opening the locket to see Angelo and his family, a crude painting that had been sealed by glass in the brass prison. He closed it with a snap and gripped it tight, his knuckles turning white. "Do not worry Angelo, I will return you to your family." And with that, he blew out his candle and laid to rest, awaiting the next morning. Angel's did not sleep, but Castiel took the night to conduct war strategies as he stared at the ceiling of his worn tent. Tomorrow would be the day he feared would come. He knew many of these men would slaughter hundreds of men, turning their olive skin red under their shined armor. He tossed and turned, pity and fear eating at him. Angel's where not suppose to feel this way, so why was he? He cursed himself as the sun began to breath the horizon; it was time.

The horn of awakening sounded through the camp, like a death call. He rose from his bed and prepared himself, cleaning his olive skin from the sins of yesterday with a damp cloth. He stared into the bucket of clear and pure water, hating what he saw. He dropped the dirty rag into the bucket and red began to disperse throughout the liquid, soon tainting it with blood and dirt. He equipped himself with a clean and pale tunic, then his chainmail and his chest plate that bore a vibrant red crucifix. He took up his shield that was pure white with the same crucifix upon its white iron, sheathed his blade to his hip and held onto his halberd tightly through his leather gauntlets. He was ready for today, more than ready, it was as if he was bred for this, and he was.

He exited his tent, looking around at the men who began to pack up, more than eager to rush into battle. Castiel sighed at the sight and went to fetch his horse, smiling at the gentle creature who greeted him. He stroked her head, running his hand along her jaw. "Hello…" he spoke softly to her, feeding her an apple he had taken from his meal the night before. "I pray that this war will not last long." He pressed his forehead to the large horse, closing his eyes. He pulled away and began to clad the horse in armor that portrayed the red crucifix, cooing to her. Castiel mounted his steed, stroking her neck gently, nudging his heels into her sides as he beckoned her to move forward. The angel gathered his men, riding towards Zara.

Before Castiel knew it, the rush of battle was all around him: men screaming as swords and arrows penetrated the fragile flesh of one another, armor and shield's making a sound rhythm as they clashed together, and the splatter of blood purging the ground and armor of the victors who had slain the others. To Castiel, everything went in slow motion, adrenalin kicking into the blood of his vessel. Men dared to charge him, but he only cut them down, eyes piercing like ice and war cries that made even the strongest of men cringe with fear.

Castiel had killed one hundred and fifty-six men alone, his men killing a total of over one thousand-five hundred where civilians. Zara had fallen on November 23, 1202 by Castiel and his troops, the few who had agreed to siege Zara. Upon their arrival, they had blown away the city walls and ships who came from Venice assisted in their assault. Only fifty of his men had fallen, but they had achieved victory.

Later, Pope Innocent had excommunicated the faction of the crusaders that had attacked Zara along with Castiel and the entire Venetians. He wrote to the Venetians, "Behold, your gold has turned to a base metal and your silver had almost completely rusted since, departing from the purity of your plan and turning aside from the path onto the impassible road, you have, so to speak, withdrawn your hand from the plough for when you should have hastened to the land flowing with milk and honey, you turned away, going astray in the direction of the desert."

Castiel sat alone in the house of his Father, praying to him upon the cushioned kneelers, "Father, why do you wish of such bloodshed? Even the pope, the human who leads your work, had seen error in this mission, and yet you ordered the fall of Zara. Why is that?..." This was the first time Castiel had truly doubted his father. He eventually brought Angelo back to his home in Venice, his grace and angelic entity returning to heaven. He was praised for his work leading the crusaders to victory, but Castiel felt no pride in the matter. Castiel was promoted to head of the Earth Garrison, but Castiel still felt empty. Naomi, an angel higher than he, wished to see him. When he had finished his visit with her, his doubt had diminished, and his eyes bore the resemblance of a soldier once more.

It wouldn't be centuries later until he would feel this feeling again. It would rise like the sun does on the dawn of a new tomorrow, burn more brightly than when it was snuffed, and no one could stop him. For this time, his doubt would lead to the most important thing in his life.

"Your new assignment, Castiel, is to find Dean Winchester."


	2. Chapter 2: The Rise of the Righteous Man

"Your new assignment is to find Dean Winchester." The words hit Castiel like any other command, ready to take action. "But be warned Castiel, Dean is in the pits of Hell, and you alone will never be able to reach him alone. I want you to prepare your Garrison and march out at dawn."

Castiel simply nodded and knelt to the angel, standing and left to prepare his Garrison. He called upon Uriel, Jophiel, Hashmel, and Daniel to his side, speaking of their mission.

"Dean Winchester, as we know, is in the mid depths of Hell. He is past the eternal sufferers and with the tortured. Our mission is crucial to the future of all our father's creations and we must not fail. Do I make myself clear?"

"What's the plan Castiel? How are we going to sneak into Hell and pull a mortal out?" Jophiel asked, eyebrow quirked.

"That will be easy. There is a gateway to hell on Earth in what the humans call 'Kazakhstan'. The coordinates are +52° 28' 47.14", +62° 11' 8.38"." The angels nod as they memorize the coordinates. "We will go through these gates and I will plunge in to get Dean Winchester. Uriel and Daniel, I need you two to cover my flanks as Demons will try to stop me. If this 'Dean' is as important as he is, then the demons will not want him in our hands. Jophiel and Hashmel, I need you two to protect the gates while I am retrieving Dean." The angels nodded at their orders and Uriel smiled, chuckling.

"You always have to take the glory parts of the missions. Even way back in the crusades you took all the glory." Uriel chuckled and patted Castiel's back.

Castiel gave a weak smile back, knowing that Uriel was the funniest of the Garrison. "I do not take all the glory for either of these missions. I wouldn't have succeeded if not for my fellow comrades." He straightened up and watched over his men. "Rest now, we leave on the humans tomorrow. Sharpen your angel blades and your wit, for these demons can be ruthless and will attack you without any warning." and with that, Castiel retreated to the heaven he haunted.

It was the quite eternal Tuesday of an autistic man who drowned in his bathtub due to negligence. He sat upon the stone bench that protruded from the suburban green grass that was finely mowed. He looked up at the cloudless blue skies, giving a small, almost invisible smile at the bright kite that soared across the barren sky. To him, this was just an ordinary mission, nothing new. He hadn't seen 'new' since the healing of Therese Neumann in 1925, and even that wasn't entirely 'new'. It was just healing a follower of his father and persuading more to do so as well.

He sighed as he waited for the endlessness of time to flow, almost fearful of the hell that he would have to go through in order to reach this 'Dean' person. The Winchesters are well known in heaven. In fact, Mary Campbell and John Winchester where on top priority for the Cherubim to unite so that they may be born. Questions tugged at him, weighing him down like a stone necklace in a sea of the unknown. He was not high enough to know the true motives of these plans. He was simply a soldier, a pawn on a giant chess board, the one who takes orders rather than gives.

Castiel's eyes closed as his navy blue eyes crashed like a stormy sea that was long under turmoil. When he opened them, he was in a crisp grassy plain. The grass swayed and whistled under him, singing a small little tune to the wind that rustled through the strands. He called upon his men as the sun rose over the horizon, its light just as it was when his father had first created it. His Garrison flocked to him upon his call like he was a shepherd and they where his sheep.

"Are you ready?" He asked, looking all around them. They nodded and smiled a bit, "Jophiel and Hashmel, are you ready to open the gates?"

Jophiel and Hashmel nodded and took their positions at the gate, chanting thick Enochian, "OLANI OL MADRIAAX OADRIAX GRV OL MATB BAB OL ODO OIAD LONDOHOL DONASDOGAMATASTOS OE DS MAD NOQOLH BAHAO NIIS OI IEHVSOZ!"

[O creator of heaven, we act of thous ability to open the kingdom of hell in which your servant cries for his mercies!]

With those words, the gate of hell erupted from the earth that had been sheltering it from the hands of humans. Castiel covered his eyes as the old wooden door that had fended off the claws of demons for many years shone and erected itself from the soil and cracked earth. He gasped and looked up at it, blue eyes shaking as he looked all around the steelwork frame and the oak wood that looked a bit rotten.

"Are you ready Captain?" Uriel chuckled and began to open the door, in which Castiel gave a small nod. He helped open the large door and peered inside, heat radiating off it like an oven. He coughed and began his way inside, followed by Uriel and Daniel.

As they descended down the endless stone stairs, they looked around in high alert, ready for the demons to strike. Castiel lead his men down the cobblestone steps, his silver angel blade tucked inside of his tunic sleeve. Something was off though. There were no demons.

"We are already two levels in, so why haven't we been attacked yet?" Daniel whispered to Uriel as panted at the scorching heat they were not used to. Uriel shrugged in reply, uttering out, "Maybe they don't realize people still use that door."

Castiel's eyes squinted into two slivers of cobalt. He didn't like the silence already. "Still, be on guard… It could be a trap. Perhaps they know we are here for the Righteous man if everyone seems to know about him." Daniel and Uriel nodded and held their blades tightly in their grips, eyes piercing the dark heat.

Soon, the sounds of the mortal's who suffered there called out, making the angel's shiver. The sounds where blood curdling and cold, like that of a murdered lamb on passover. Castiel froze as lines of rooms filled both sides of the hallway. He looked in a little barred window on the first room he came up to, but a rust colored hand that smelt of iron lunged out at him, making him flinch a bit, but the other angels remained stationary. He panted as the scent filled his nostrils, making his head spin. He heard groans emit from the small window, such as pleas for mercy, release, and even death. He continued to walk, more blood coated hands reached out for the saviors.

"_**Save us…**_" One called out with a raspy and dying voice. "_**Forgive us…**_" another whispered. "_**Kill me**_…" one croaked out as he sounded like he was choking on his own blood. Castiel looked around at all the hands, but remained calm for his Garrison and stood tall, trying not to listen to them. He wanted to save all of these poor humans, but he was here for a reason and he mustn't forget that.

One cell did peak his interest though, and it had a hand dangling out of the small window rather than out stretched. Castiel walked up to the rusted steel door and peered inside, whispering, "Hello…" With the small word came a groan, followed by a small whisper back. "Hello…" It sounded like a little girl, who was no more than six. Castiel was surprised by the sound and noticed her hand was quite small.

"Do you know what is happening?..." he cooed softly, trying to get information out her gently.

"Im in hell… because I was bad… I killed daddy… because he hurt mommy… and then I killed myself." He whispered through what sounded like choked up tears.

Castiel frowned at the words that fell out of her mouth like glass shattering on concrete. He held her hand gently and closed his eyes. He could see through her eyes what she had done. He felt the warm blood on her hands that was her father's. He could feel the disgusted and frightened look in her mother's eyes. He could even feel the hot tears that fell down her cheek as she took her own life, and as ironic as it was, it was her own self-murder that damned her to hell, for suicide was a sin. He stood up straight and looked into the dark cell. "Do you know a man by the name 'Dean Winchester'?" he asked softly.

The name made every one of the prisoners screech with fear, making many of the hands retreat back into the shadows from whence they came. The little girl sobbed and tried to take her hand away from Castiel's but he held on tight.

"I-Is he coming? Please let me go! _**LET ME GO!**_" she screeched like a dying animal, but Castiel held on tightly.

"Sh!" Uriel hushed loudly to the little girl and slammed on the steel door. "So you DO know him? And how is that?"

"H-He's the man who comes in here and tortures me!" she sobbed and begged for mercy, squirming her small blood stained hand. "He carves his name in my tummy everyday!"

Castiel frowned and watched the girl who hid in the shadows. "Uriel, we need to save this girl." Uriel rose an eyebrow and looked over at his leader. "Say what now?" he question and sounded surprised.

"This girl has done nothing wrong and has helped us in our mission." He hissed back and glared at him, "You dare question my authorities?" He snapped and let go of the girl's hand, which quickly retreated back into the cell.

"No, Castiel, but that is plain STUPID! We cant carry that many souls back and most likely her bones have been salted and burned. At least with Dean we know his are in tact."

Castiel was about to counter-protest when Daniel pushed them into an empty cell, "Someone is coming you two! Hush!" he closed the door, but not all the way. He peeked out as he watched two demons and a mortal man walk to the little girl's room, opening the door and walked inside. The girl screamed and cried for her saviors, sounds of blood squirting and flesh cutting sounding from her room. Castiel whispered to Daniel, "Who are they?"

Daniel looked over at Castiel with his yellow-green eyes and whispered, "Sir, I believe it's Dean with two other demons." That was all Castiel needed to hear. He snuck out of the room they hid in and went over to the girl's room, finding it was shut behind the demons. He pressed his hands to the cold and dead steel, a blue light emanating from his fingers. The door blew open and the three angel's entered quickly. Dean stood there, the little girl in a small once white dress and now stained a rustic red at his feet, choking on her own blood. Castiel growled as the demons turned around and lunged at the angels. Uriel and Daniel unsheathed their blades, quickly stabbing the demons and made them flash a bright yellow light before collapsing to the ground.

Castiel stared at Dean's back as the blade fell from Dean's hand and onto the floor. God wanted him to save this man? One who tortures the sufferers of Hell? He frowned and looked back at Daniel and Uriel. "Uriel, get the girl and I'll grab Dean." Castiel quickly ran up to Dean, grabbing his upper arm. Dean struggled and screamed, trying to break free from Castiel's grip. He hissed and fought Castiel, even managing to grab a big handful of his feathers on his wings and ripped them off. Castiel screeched in pain as feathers were plucked from their homes, making Castiel more aggressive. Castiel gripped his arm tighter, making his grace burn through Dean's tattered shirt and singe his skin. This made Dean whimper out and pass out, going limp in Castiel's arms.

The angel soon scooped him up and ran out of the room. Uriel grabbed the girl and ran out as well. Daniel was not much farther behind as Demons began to pile into the corridor.

"Shit! Castiel, if you wish for us all to make it all out of here alive, Daniel and I must cover you and we must leave the girl behind." Uriel called up to Castiel as he slashed through demons. Castiel scowled and knew he couldnt carry both Dean and the girl.

"Do what you think is necessary Uriel. Her blood is not on my hands." He barely got that order out as he ran up the cobblestone steps. Uriel nodded and threw the girl's corpse at the demons, smiting them all in the distraction.

They were almost out, just a few more steps. Castiel looked back at his men behind him, gasping as a demon had appeared behind Daniel and grabbed him. Castiel stopped as the demon snatched Daniel's angel blade and stuck it through his chest, making the angel scream and emit a strong light along with smiting the demon in the process. Uriel grabbed the dead angel's blade and his brother's corpse, trying all he could not to sob and mourn his death. They flew out of the doorway, calling to Jophiel and Hashmel to seal the gate. They called out in thick Enochian again and just as an army of demons was about to be released, the doors slammed shut and sunk back into the ground from whence it erected itself from.

The four angels looked down at their fallen brother, Daniel, angelic tears falling from their eyes. They all dipped their heads down and the sky rumbled with thunder, the trickling of rain falling. As the tears trailed down their cheeks, the intensity of the storm increased. In began to pour soon enough as the angel's ascended back to heaven, both champions and grievers.

Castiel did not attend the ceremony in which the angel's offered Daniel back unto their father. He simply couldnt. He held the pure, yet slightly tainted soul of Dean Winchester in his hands, frowning. "It was because of you that Daniel has fallen…" He sounded bitter and dark. Daniel has been a loyal follower of his Garrison for millennia, and now he had perished for the sake of a single human. Castiel let more tears fall, making the western United States rain and pour for miles. Just like they always say, rain is just an Angel's tears.

Castiel stood and frowned, blinking and with a sway of feathers, he was at the gravesite of Dean Winchester. He glared down at the blue soul with a patch of red, dropping it down onto the grave site, letting it dissolve into the freshly turned soil.

"Because of you… We couldn't save an innocent girl nor my brother… I hope you were worth saving Dean Winchester… I hope Father was right when he said he had a great plan for you…"

And with that, the mourning angel left with the sound of wings flapping and a hand emerging from the black soil.

Dean Winchester was saved.


End file.
