Chapter Text
There was a time, though it seems a thousand lifetimes ago, when Castiel looked upon his Father’s most beloved creation with interest and admiration, watching them mingle and scurry around like ants. He has always had a peculiar curiosity when it comes to humankind, and it has been the reason why he has been subjected to not few bewildered glances and various expressions of incomprehension from his brothers and sisters. They do not understand why he likes to watch men; for the other angels, humanity used to be of little interest, not much more than a tiny piece of the largest puzzle in the whole of existence, and definitely lower in their favour than animals, because animals, at least, do not destroy what their Father has created. They do not understand that this is exactly what fascinates him: their flaws, their faults, and their ability to make sense out of little things that, taken for themselves, are of little meaning.
Of course, that was before the world changed. Now Castiel has little opportunity to examine them closely.
The war has changed everything.
Three years have passed on earth, or so he has been informed (time passes differently in Heaven, and he is not used to counting in earth years), since the first attack was launched to cleanse the world and bring the paradise that their Father promised them. It is not because of Lucifer’s rising, as was originally foretold, but because He looked upon his creation and saw the corruptness of men, the darkness that eats away their flesh and the brightness of their souls. And He decided to end it.
Castiel has participated in only a few of the battles: he assumes that his superiors were reluctant to ask him to smite men. If it is so, then he hopes he has proven them wrong by now. He has fought correctly and ruthlessly on the occasions that have been offered to him, just as was expected of him, just as any angel would have. A small part of his grace wept for the beauty he had to destroy, but it is God’s plan, and God’s plan is just. There is no questioning His orders. Castiel is an angel of the Lord, a soldier of God, and he will follow his orders until the day he is no more.
And now, it seems, his loyalty and faith and hard work are being rewarded.
“It is a very delicate matter, Castiel, and crucial for the outcome of this war,” Zachariah stresses, “and a task that I can trust only to you.”
Castiel feels the flutter of pride and flattery, and quickly suppresses the sentiment. It is not appropriate for an angel, and he has been told more than once that it can be the road to one’s downfall. “All my brothers are very capable warriors,” he says instead, as a display of humility. “I do not understand what would make me more suitable.”
Zachariah smiles. “You have watched humans like no other angel. Now your knowledge of their ways will help us win this war.”
Castiel frowns. “I do not understand,” he admits. Then again, it isn’t his job to understand; it’s his job to carry out Heaven’s quests to the best of his abilities.
“Do you remember our brother Gabriel?”
The sudden change of topic perplexes him, and he stares at his superior in bewilderment.
“Do you, Castiel?”
He does. It is impossible not to remember Gabriel, the Archangel, the angel of justice, one of the seven favoured ones who stand in the presence of God, with a grace shining so bright and clear it lit up entire galaxies.
It has been a long time since anyone has seen his grace shine.
“I remember him,” he says, and the nostalgia that seeps into his voice is enough to reveal the sadness that the absence of Gabriel has caused.
“Tell me, then, Castiel, where is our brother?” Zachariah asks. “He has not been seen in Heaven for centuries.”
A sudden sense of dread fills him. “But he is not dead.” He would have felt the loss, of that he is sure. Why, then, does his brother looks so grim?
“He is not,” Zachariah agrees.
Castiel relaxes for the beat of a wing, until realisation comes to him. “On earth,” he whispers. “Gabriel is on earth.”
“It is the only possible explanation. He has been walking the earth for so long that he can pass for a human, and he masks his grace so well that we have not been able to detect him, regardless of how thorough our search was. It was not enough. This is why I am sending you to earth. You need to find him. You need to find our brother.”
“How?” Castiel asks. The earth is wide he would not know where to start; and if Gabriel still walks amongst humans...
Zachariah is tight-lipped when he speaks again, and his wings shudder as he bristles with anger. “We have heard some disturbing rumours. The resistance has, in some areas, grown stronger. We fear that Gabriel has lost his path, that he has been giving them information. You have to stop him.”
Horror floods him. “You want me to-“ He cannot bring himself to utter the words. How could he? It is a terrible request, even if his brother should have indeed betrayed them.
“No, no! You must not harm him. But do remind him where he belongs. Convince him to come back. If he is being unreasonable and refuses to listen to your words, come to me, and I will consult with Michael.” Zachariah lays a hand on his shoulder. “You have studied humans and their manners, and now is the time to put your knowledge to good use. You will take your vessel, hide your grace and pose as a human. Infiltrate their lines and find our brother. It is a difficult task, but I know you will not fail me.”
He doesn’t wait for Castiel to respond; why would he? He has been given an order, and he will follow it through, despite his doubts, despite his fear that his disguise will be insufficient. If God wants him to do it, then he will.
So he does as he is told, lets his grace seep into the human body that he chose before the war began, and dives through the sky, downwards, to earth.