Thy Will Be Done

"Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell."

--Macbeth, Act 4, Scene 3

 

 

 

                      ~~~~~~~

 

 

"Castiel."

 

The low-ranked angel's head jerked to attention. Ananiel, the angel ranking just below him, and Uriel, the angel ranking just above, looked at their brother in amazement, but also pride, especially for Ana. She was just beginning to struggle with the forbidden element known as emotion. Angels were not made to feel emotion; it would cloud their judgement and hinder their obedience to the Father. Ana knew it wouldn't be long before someone found out her secret and she would be banished to the Earth. The scariest thing of all? She was looking forward to it. She could only hope that her favorite brother would go with her. Would want to go with her.

 

"Yes, Father," Castiel answered in earnest. All he could do now was wait. It could be minutes, days, even years before the Father continued the thought, but he was an angel of the Lord; he was born to wait.

 

The angels waited. In heaven, it was only fifteen minutes before the Father returned his voice; on Earth, it would have been four hours.

 

"There is a human being on the Earth," God said in his voice that had no tone and no timbre, only love and authority. "He is the righteous man."

 

There was a wave of general astoundment in the angel garrison, although none of them dared speak a word for fear the Father would make them wait again.

 

"I want you to go to him," He went on. "His name is Dean Winchester and he lives in a place known as Kansas. Make sure he stays safe until the time for him has come. You are capable."

 

"Yes, Father." The angel was trembling all over with eagerness. His grace tingled with pent-up power. "Yes, I can do that. When is the time?"

 

Instead of answering, God said, "Good luck to you, my soldier."

 

The angels felt the presence of the Father pulling away from their garrison, but still Castiel whispered reverently, "Thank you, Father."

 

In a suprisingly human gesture of encouragement and affection, Ana reached out, grabbed her brother's hand, and gave it a squeeze. Castiel, unsure of what he was supposed to do, returned the squeeze and smiled inwardly. Ana smiled with her lips, something angels did very rarely.

 

"Godspeed, brother." She hoped that he, being the angel closest to her heart, didn't read the jealousy she felt. On the other hand, she knew that even if he did notice it, he wouldn't know what it was he was witnessing. He would simply think it was a malfunction of her grace, or something along those lines.

 

"And to you, sister," he told her with genuine love, at least to the extent that he was allowed to feel for a fellow angel. Then he took wing and flew towards Earth.

 

~~~~~~~

 

Cows lowed in their fields as they grazed on emerald grass in the thick of the winter night. The piercing light of a full moon shone through the white fog hovering over the earth, a blanket designed especially for the chilly winter. Frost clung to everything, even the eyelashes of a middle aged man in his field, a rifle in hand. He could have sworn he had heard a noise. He subconciously scratched the back of his head through the nightcap he wore as he looked around, squinting through the dark.

 

Then even the moonlight was blocked out and the man's gaze jerked towards the sky.

 

"What the hell?" he wondered aloud. Near him, a sheep baa-ed, as if in reply.

 

The falling thing blocking out the moon appeared to be growing larger and larger, and Robert Singer's first instinct was to run for the illusion of safety of the indoors, but when he tried to do just this, he found his legs wouldn't move. He found that his brain wasn't even working properly. He had heard that when faced with a life-or-death situation, your life is bound to flash before your eyes. Not so for Bobby Singer. He could only stand still and ponder how life is strange sometimes.

 

The thing was close now, as close as the tops of the trees of the Hanlowmee seemingly standing sentry duty across the thin line of dirt road. Now only the length of a few average-sized men. Now . . .

 

It hit the ground with a crash. Sparks flew through the dark air around the farmer's face, a few close enough to significantly warm his weather-beaten skin. Coughing, the man stumbled backwards, shielding his head with his arms. He headed blindly towards his barn.

 

"Hello."

 

The man jumped and spun around. It was only then that he realized he had dropped his gun when the thing touched down.

 

It was a man. At least, Bobby thought, it looks like a man. In any case, men do not simply fall from the sky and live. And they certainly don't get to their feet, passively brush themselves off, and walk towards you. No way.

 

"Are you Dean Winchester?" the man-thing asked politely. "Are you the righteous man?"

 

"I-I . . . who are you?" The human's characteristic indignancy perked its camaflouge of courage. "This is my property, and I have a right to defend it." Bobby Singer had the presence of mind to hold a finger to the trigger of his weapon. Did he say Winchester?

 

The man-thing did not blink. "You are not the righteous man."

 

"Where did you come from?" Singer demanded.

 

"Heaven," said the man-thing, without pretention.

 

Bobby Singer scoffed, not without humor. "Oh, yeah, and I just pulled this here gun outta my a*s, right?"

 

"I do not know," replied the man-thing, "And I do not care to know. The only knowledge I wish to acquire is the direct location of Dean Winchester, the righteous man."

 

By this time, poor Bobby Singer realized that either he must still be fast asleep in his bed, his wife Karen's warm body at his side, or suffering a mental breakdown. Either way, there was no harm in offering a dream/hallucination a place to spend the night.

 

"Alright, angel," he said mockingly. "Well, I have a spare bed in the house over yonder," he turned, pointing at his humble abode below the hill, "And you're welcome to sleep there fer a spell, jest till tomorrow. You kin have breakfast and go about your merry way."

 

"I do not need to eat or sleep, but know and remember that your kindness shall not be forgotten, Robert Singer."

 

Then the hallucination disappeared and Bobby Singer was alone with his sheep, his gun, and his frazzled mind.

 

He went back to his house, muttering all the way about dreams and angels and righteous men.

 

~~~~~~~

 

John Winchester had no idea babies could be miracles.

 

It wasn't so amazing the way his son was born; it wasn't so amazing that he had been born at all. But when the midwife brought him into the room and placed the sleeping baby in his arms, he fell in love. Just like that. No questions asked. The baby was thus far nameless. His face was red, his fingers small and plump. But all at once, John knew that he would love this child with his entire being as long as he lived; he would give his life for this baby.

 

Mary, his wife, read all this in his expression, and she smiled to herself, for exactly the same thing had just happened to her.

 

The midwife, after making sure the young couple and their child would be fine on their own, promised to return in the morning and left the three of them to begin their life as a family anew.

 

The new parents could only watch their child who, in slumber, was perfection.

 

They didn't know there was someone else in the room.

 

~~~~~~~

 

Castiel had never seen a newborn human before. They were a little beautiful and a lot frightening. The angel waited until John and Mary were asleep, side by side (John had offered to take the first watch, because children often died on their first night mysteriously, but the entire forty-eight hours he had spent wide-awake with his worry for his wife and being a new father had finally caught up with him), the child between them, before daring to venture closer. He knew the humans couldn't see him, or hear him, or even sense his presence, but he didn't want to take chances. He would not fail this mission; not on the very first night; not ever.

 

He blinked in surprise when the baby's eyes opened and their gazes met.

 

The child, who would one day be the righteous man, could see him.

 

And he was . . . laughing.

 

Castiel thought there was something wrong with him.

 

He touched two fingers to the baby's forehead, not knowing what else to do in such a situation, but then the baby's fingers caught a comically strong grip on his own. He looked down at the baby in surprise, and the baby watched him calmly, with something disturbingly akin to intelligence in his already-green eyes, but Castiel was new to this whole human thing; he found the baby's intelligence humorous, because he had doubted any humans were smart, let alone a new one.

 

"The righteous infant," he said aloud.

 

Dean giggled with joy evident in the way he tightened his hold on the angel.

 

Castiel surprised even himself then.

 

He smiled, for the first time.

Author's Note

Hi, guys. Enjoy. ^^