The Gospels of Castiel, Angel of the Lord

The Handprint

The Host are assembled in the great hall, an angel whose true form rose from the crowd to take his place, towering over the podium in front of him. His grace ripples in slight waves as he addresses his audience, every angel in his garrison.

"Brethren, I stand before you with a task handed down to me from our Father Himself."

The angels begin to murmur amongst themselves, their grace undulates with excitement, bright yellow overtaking the Host.

Zachariah stands even taller, his wings unfurled with pride. "We are to rescue the righteous man from Hell. The one true vessel of our most esteemed brother, Michael."

The murmur dies down, replaced by steady grace colored by dread: a dismal gray. Zachariah's wings curl into themselves and he begins pacing back and forth. "Am I correct in my assumption, brothers and sisters, that not a one among you wishes to volunteer for this task? Do I lead those who do not wish to do their father's bidding? Am I amongst angels or mud monkeys?"

One angel, in the back of the congregation, stands, black, dark blue, and platinum wings unfurled, grace steady with the color of resolution and righteous pride: emerald green.

"I volunteer, brother, to scour perdition and raise the righteous man."

Zachariah's multiple eyes scan the host before him, hoping to find someone else to volunteer for the mission handed down from God himself, but his hopes are unfounded and he looks to Castiel, the only angel willing to brave the hordes of Hell alone to save the righteous man.

"Your offer is accepted brother."

*******

"You volunteered to save my ass?"

Cas looks to his best friend, eyes steady, unwavering, just as they were all those years ago. "Of course, Dean."

Chuck scrunches up half of his face and taps his pencil against his teeth. He chuckles slightly and Dean glares at him.

"What's so fucking funny?'

Cas elbows him, but Dean ignores it. He knows they have a chance to beat this bastard, but he's had just about enough of this shit.

"I was just thinking about that vision I gave Sam."

Dean tenses, his nostrils flare, and he practically bares his teeth. Castiel feels the fear rippling throughout his grace and he uncharacteristically grips Dean's knee, causing the other man to send him a questioning and shocked glance. Castiel breathes a sigh of relief as he lets go of Dean's knee, knowing the motion allowed him to diffuse the situation for a moment at least.

Chuck pretends he couldn't see the whole display and continues talking. "With the future, I showed him that you go off the deep end because you had to lock Cas up in Ma'lak box because he went crazy from the mark that locked me up."

Dean's eyes narrow as he shrugs. "Kay?"

Chuck thoughtfully bites the end of his pencil. "Cas wouldn't have gone crazy, Dean."

The hatred resurfaces, and Cas's hand goes back to Dean's knee under the table. Dean takes the grounding the way in which it is offered, and he breathes deeply and secretly hopes Cas will keep his hand there for how ever long this was going to take. He honestly couldn't have cared any less what Chuck thought about it.

"Okay."

"Castiel has been underestimated at every turn, by every being, including you and your brother. He would have been able to handle the mark without any difficulty."