She flinches, clasping her hands to her head, the spike of pain in her head making certain she knew another of her siblings was gone. Dead.
Her mate, on the other side of the bed and watching her closely, had an expression of pain on his face.
"Azrael...please don't go," he said quietly.
"It hurts!" The youngest archangel sobbed. "I can feel them in here, dying! If I could stop it, I shall, Gabriel!" Another sob exited her throat, a low, pained moan.
Gabriel was at her side in an instant, connecting their Grace, their source of being. Sister, take care-Sigyn can only take so much. Go, if you need me, I shall come.
Azrael gave him a grateful look as she readied her wings.
Within an instant, she was gone.
A coldness stole into Heaven as another soul entered the Kingdom. Mary Winchester had a passenger, an unwelcome one.
Azrael entered Heaven, her armor dark, her sword burning, blazing. Seraphim and cherubim kowtowed to her; even the ones against her brothers bowed to her. For an instant, Heaven was full of greeting; then the killing and slaughtering of the angels filled Heaven, death-cries flooding the skies. On Earth it rained wherever the fighting was heaviest.
Michael spoke through the channel designated for the archangels.
Brother, Azrael acknowledged. She looked around for her other older sibling. Where is Raphael? Why are you fighting in our Father's hallowed halls?
I am here, sister, the Archangel of Healing said, appearing. We fight because the rebels do not wish for Michael's or my leadership. All believed you to be dead. Hatred of her appeared in Raphael's tone. Some of the cherubim and seraphim have left. Gadreel has escaped prison, Ezekiel has vanished, Naomi is missing...there is a lot of dead seraphim.
If you did not use them as soldiers, Azrael responded tightly, then there would be no need for war. Are you two idiots? Father did not require this! He does not want this!
Silence, Michael growled. You are good for nothing more than our pleasure, sister. So be good and we might let you free. He flew closer to her, intending to use her, to defile her-
Her Grace flashed purple. She had an angel blade out and pointing at him. Michael and Raphael appeared stunned.
I am stronger than I once was, Michael, Raphael. Hêlêl and Gabriel taught me more than you ever could. Using me like that against my will shall never happen again. Her righteous anger flowed through Heaven, stopping the angels from fighting. It was clear the Angel of Death was angry about something. Michael summoned his own flaming blade, Raphael his.
So be it, then. Death do us part, Michael quoted.
Azrael's feral amusement rolled off of her in waves.
And Heaven split in half when Raphael and Michael brought their blades against Azrael's.
Gadreel and Ezekiel were enemies. They had fought against each other before, in a miniature skirmish. In the end, Ezekiel won and Gadreel was imprisoned.
So he was shocked-to think the least-when a vessel-wearing Ezekiel came to the other angel's rescue, braking him from his jail.
Finding his own vessel hadn't been too much of a hassle. He wasn't picky like the archangels had to be.
"Just so you know," Ezekiel said quietly as they headed into the world, "if you even think about trying to kill me, I will end you." His voice was dangerous. Gadreel only nodded.
He need this chance-desperately. He wanted to redeem himself.
Far away in Los Angeles, California, a two-year-old girl by the name of Anne Summers burst into loud sobs, her 'first words' being, "The angels! The end!" The girl was terrified of even her own mother.
In London, at a rare-and-antiques book shop, an angel looked at his demon lover. "Oh dear. The Apocalypse has come quite earlier than I had anticipated."
"Should we skip?"
"I hardly think my friend and sister would like me if I did," was the reply. "Besides, the Apocalypse involving Samuel Winchester will go an entirely different direction than which we expect."
Their customers stared at the angel and demon, not quite wanting to know what they were going on about.
"Something's happening," Sirius Black informed his friend, who stood in front of his cell in Azkaban. Remus Lupin frowned, feeling it as well. It was like...something magical was coming; but it was different, not their type of magic.
"I know, I can feel it," he replied. "What should we do?"
Sirius shrugged. "I've no idea. I have a feeling that the magical world will have no choice but to out itself, soon enough." Remus nodded, a little disturbed that Sirius felt the exact same thing he did. Then Remus was escorted out, and Sirius slumped in his cell.
In Mystic Falls, Virginia, the supernatural residents of the town were restless. One in particular, a witch named Sheila Bennett, frowned as she concentrated.
"Something bad's going to happen," she muttered. "Something really bad." She looked through one of her ancestor's grimoires and found a spell to see the future...and then jerked back as soon as she finished the incantation.
When she finished the vision, she smiled bitterly, reading the warning that came with using the spell: there was fuck-all she could do about the damn future.
She wished she could be there-it would have made her future sacrifice worth it.
A young faerie from the court of Oberon gulped in shock as she, too, felt the magic in the air. She took a deep breath.
Whatever's happening...I wish they would stop, she thought, glaring at the ceiling as though her glare alone could make all of Heaven fall before her.
She pouted a little.
Too bad Heaven was having a cosmic war, or Penelope Garcia would've helped out with minor changes.
As it was, when Ezekiel knocked on her door again, she wasn't pleased.
Especially since he brought the one angel who she was actually pissed off at with him.
In New York, a young, thirteen-year-old Anthony Edward Stark woke up, feeling extreme forboding.
Something big had changed the chemical makeup of the universe. How he was so sure, he didn't really know.
He just figured it out quickly, then promptly fell into a deeper sleep.
Kelly Burkhardt wasn't one to be superstitious, but her son was crying one minute-and then quiet the next (he was just over a year old!), so she was suspicious. Even more so when an odd feeling crawled over her spine, an odd feeling of foreboding.
Nick's eyes, for a second when she looked into them, to check on him, were definitely Grimm-like. Kelly shivered.
Now she knew what wesen felt when they saw her.
In another town in America, the "prophet" Chuck Shurley grins and begins to plan. He knew what would happen.
This was one of the major catalysms that would happen.
All around the world, psychics, witches, and generally all of the supernatural that knew what the hell was going on, shuddered or cracked out in hysterical laughter as it became clear-from the moment Azrael hitched a ride with Mary Winchester's soul-the beginning of the End had started.
This is ridiculous! We've been fighting each other for ages! Azrael yelled. Do you honestly think that I would even want to feel your Grace hurting me, yet again? Should I feel grateful for the torment?!
You should feel grateful that we didn't kill you ourselves before now, you abomination! Father never should have created you! Raphael cried, unable to hold it in.
Azrael stopped. Her brothers paused as she tried to understand.
Is that truly what you see of me? She asked, her Grace cringing under their judgemental gazes. Then the fire on her blade stops blazing. Then watch this!
She was done. Done with the screwing around. She didn't know, couldn't know-that three years had passed on the Earth. She found that, right then, she cared little.
She stands up before her brothers, unfathomable power flinging even their blade's fire out. Heaven became colder. Both Raphael and Michael truly felt cold-something that had, until then, belonged solely to the humans-or so they believed.
I am the Angel of Death, of Destruction. What I did during Egypt I regret, what I did during the Flood was even worse. I am done bowing to your fucking whims, she threw at her shocked and appalled brothers. And most of all, I am done with this damed war up here. From now on, you're on your OWN!
Power blasted out of her at that last word. She threw her sword down and turned, about to walk out.
Raphael took her blade-
-and stabbed her in the back.
Gabriel felt it first. Agony splintered through the bond. Powerful, profound and pure agony. Powerless for a split second, he fell onto the ground of the street he was walking on, unable to breathe, even though he didn't need to. It was the sensation of being unable to that frightened him.
His Grace called to hers, seeking it frantically. He found nothing.
He found himself staring at a face above him, a grandmotherly, concerned face.
"Are you okay, young man?" Gabriel would've laughed, if he had the energy.
In a Cage, far beneath the Earth, but above the Pits of Hell, an angel whispering through the bars of his large and empty prison stopped. For an instant, everything was as normal as could be, until Lucifer screamed.
All activity ceased-hell, even Alistair was shocked as Lucifer's scream continued. It built up-
-a bright wave of pure Grace poured out-
Then it died down, and Lucifer's True Voice rang out across Hell, pissed and to the point.
Lower demons screamed.
Several hundred were vaporized.
One, riding a hellhound-the Mistress of Hellhounds-heard every word, her slightly human skin-and-shape-changing body protecting her from most things in Hell.
Soon I will end them! They dared to hurt my bonded.
THEY WILL PAY!
"He knows not of the spell I have done," she said to her daughter confidently. "The angels shall Fall!"
Azalilith's grin fell.
"Mother...did you just say that you are going to cause the angels to Fall?"
"I did, dear. This very night. This 'bonded' of our Father's shall be alright." Azalilith had to look away, lest her disgust for Lilith show.
Mother...what have you wrought?
The first thing Azrael was aware of was that she was Falling. She whimpered and locked onto the nearest source that didn't reject her.
Michael felt a small pocket of Grace lock onto him. To his shock he realized it was Azrael in her vessel...and she looked young, like a human child.
Finding his vessel was easy.
Realizing his sister had little to no memory and was the equivalent to a three-year old child, he purchased land and builders to build a private compound. He told Raphael-who was now a 'sister'-in no uncertain terms was he to make Azrael uncomfortable in any way. The three-year-old angel really had no concept of...well, anything, really.
Laughter erupted and Michael sighed. Azrael had been laughing a lot more lately-something he thought she wouldn't ever do again. Most of the compound had music on 24/7 because they couldn't handle silence. Both Michael and Raphael were among those many.
Azrael had a few guards around her whenever she asked to go outside, but it wasn't too obvious that they were there for her protection.
Until one day Uriel came back, pale and shaky.
"She's been kidnapped," was all the guard said. He collapsed heavily, Grace leaking from a wound obviously made from an angel blade.
Michael knew Atropos was probably laughing at him. Two years was all he'd gotten with his sister, unjaded and willing to learn from him for the first time.
Azrael had been playing at a park several miles away, with some other humans her age, when a man came up to her.
"Azrael?" he'd whispered. Azrael looked at Uriel and Zachariah, who were-as per usual-wandering away.
She looked back at the man-no, angel-and tilted her head inquisitively.
"Who are you?" she asked with childlike naïveté.
"My name is Ezekiel," he said, crouching down to her height. "Michael...is not one you should be looked after by."
"Where would you take me?"
"To a friend of Mary Winchester's husband," was his kind response.
Then she nodded. "Alright."
Ezekiel seemed surprised at her lack of self-preservation.
"I trust Mary Winchester," was all the young angel had to say. "I trust her husband's judgement, I guess."
Ezekiel was satisfied with that answer.
The Roadhouse was pretty much empty when Ezekiel arrived, with a bouncing-with-energy Azrael along for the ride. The girl was about five, if what she said was right.
"We're closed," Ellen Harvelle called from the back.
"It is I, Ezekiel," Ezekiel called.
Ellen heard a crash. Then a few giggles.
She went out to see her daughter playing tag...with a little girl who had wings.
The black and silver wings were ridiculously small, yet uncannily pretty. Ellen knew.
She gave Ezekiel an unimpressed look. "Why'd you bring her here?"
Ezekiel looked down.
"She needs to be taught how to act human. She may be an angel, but she could turn the tide in the war when she's older. She still needs to get older, but even so." He gave her a beseeching look. Ellen muttered something rude.
"Fine, I'll have Winchester over there" she nodded towards the Winchester, who she thought was a little insane for dragging two boys down that path with him (who wouldn't?) "take her to Singer's."
Bobby Singer had been in the game since his wife had been possessed.
"Thank you," Ezekiel beamed. He scampered when Ellen raised her own angel blade she'd been given to protect herself and Jo.
"Just take her to Singer's," Ellen hissed at John. "She's only a baby angel, same age as Sammy, for God's sake! Don't be a damned fool and hate angels!"
Azrael turned to John.
"Mary didn't wanna leave."
John and Ellen turned to her.
"It's one of the clearest memories I have. Mary refused to leave until her boys were safe." Azrael smiled at John. "She would've gone to Hell if I didn't."
John went white. "What?"
"Mary made a deal with..." she frowned. "...ah, I can't remember! Bastard's got yellow eyes, I think. Anyway, she made a deal to save your sorry ass."
John stared at the angel in shock.
"You would've gone to Heaven, too," she said, nodding. "She set in motion what is to come."
With that distinctly disturbing thought, Azrael turned back to her Coke.