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God's Most Divine

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   Chuck slowly walks down the path, looking around the largest garden since he had created Eden. It’s been several millennia since he’s last been in this pocket space it’s residents call Ivory, and like before, he's restricted only to the center: the Cosmo Garden. How the powerful yet young beings found out how to ward against him and keep him from entering the city itself, he can only suspect that his brother, Death, had showed them. He can even see warding against Amara shimmering in the invisible yet protective barrier surrounding the entire city.

   Shaking his head, the powerful being finally walks into the outer circle of the garden’s center, spotting the person he knew could contact that certain being he’s looking for. Rowena MacLeod is currently walking down the path, describing the bed of cosmos to the blind being she’s leading as two magic circles of light float above them. Another thing he loves about this creation he didn't even see coming. The grace of these creatures who call themselves Cosmos created Ivory and it's main light source, so similar yet completely different from his angels, who are just half of who their parents are.

   Like his father before him, Sannah (the one Chuck figures Rowena is leading) is a being of prophecy. Every supernatural creature and being has heard of the blind Cosmo, and know that every vision and every prophecy that crossed his lips comes into effect or is seen in one form or another. Even now, Chuck can see an unclear prophecy slowly bubbling and swirling its way to the surface of Sannah’s grace.

   But their leader, the first to come into her unexpected existence, reminds him so much of the archangels, especially of the archangel he suspects to be her father, but so much more powerful than the four archangels combined. Powerful enough to change the soul of one unborn child, making them her bonded messenger, and create the world of natural born witches and wizards. Chuck coughs, getting the duo's attention, who smile as they turn around, clear question on the taller and older immortal’s face.

   “We've been expecting you, Charles.” Rowena’s voice comes out softly but loud enough for him to hear, a grace that feels like a sandstorm flowing smoothly around her and from her to the Cosmo. “She's waiting for you among the Eternal Trees.” The first witch, reborn multiple times, and the seer turn on their heels and start making their way down the path Chuck was on before he stopped and stepped off of it to gain their attention.

   He hesitates, wondering how this certain Cosmo will react to him now, after all this time of imprisonment. He's even questioning how she's personally blocked from his sight before following the witch and blind Cosmo. Not being able to get or see into the city is one thing, but not to be able to see one rather powerful being is an entirely different matter.

   Several minutes pass, and those minutes turn into an hour, than an hour and a half, and they still haven't gotten to these special trees he heard much about. He watches the flowers and plants around them fade away as they walk, turning into a variety of massive oak-like trees that strangely feels like the sleeping graces of his angels.

   Several animals shoot pass them and across the path, playfully chasing each other, when one of them comes up to the trio. The animal is a large kitsune that is surprisingly an inch taller than Chuck’s vessel, it's fur a golden blonde with white at the tip of all nine tails. It's eyes are a color like whiskey gold, a color that pings him in the heart of his grace as it remembers Gabriel.

   Rowena scratches the kitsune behind the ear as best as she could, a small smile on her face as it turns its attention to Sannah. “Hello, Messenger. Have you seen Judgement? Or Ramsey for that matter? They should be here as well.” The kitsune -who Chuck now knows is called Messenger- chuffs, batting at Chuck with a large paw before standing up straighter, eyes trained on the Cosmo among them. Rowena tenses, eyes quickly following the kitsune’s gaze before gasping, causing Chuck to look as well.

   Sannah sways where he stands, milky white eyes seeming like they're even more distant than usual. Two faint green-yellow glows circle around him, the center circle churning violently against his vessel. The glows flash brightly and the seer opens his mouth, reciting the prophecy Chuck expected to come. “When the seventh moon rises, Ivory’s marked will become Heaven’s child, and redemption his [morning] star will find. Magic might protect him, but beware the Letters, for their greed could be his undoing, and their weapons powerful yet stolen.”

   As soon as the prophecy was cited, Sannah’s eyes slowly go back to normal, quickly followed by his swaying. Messenger purrs warmly to settle the seer, curling around the blind being and wrapping him in several tails before giving Rowena a small bark, running off of the path and heading deeper into the massive trees. The witch sighs, shaking her head as she gives Chuck a look. “Follow the psychopathic kitsune, Charles, he'll take you to where you need to be. I have to get Sannah back to the Hall and have things sorted out.”

   Frowning, Chuck nods and follows the golden kitsune, tensing when the trees block out the sunlight. He looks back, watching the pair he left disappear into the distance as a pack of eastern timber wolves run between the him and the large mammal, separating them for several seconds as a dark blonde one stops Messenger to rub noses in greeting and give him a lick on the cheek. The timber wolf gives the pack a small bark and stays pressed up against the kitsune’s side, causing Chuck to smile as a large dark storm grey colored raven lands on his shoulder. Chuck gives the raven a sharp look but it doesn't move, giving him a rather annoyed look straight back. Messenger starts off again, the wolf following close behind him, both heading deeper into the trees when the powerful being starts to sense two conscious graces ahead of the strange looking quartet.

   The younger of the two graces he had rarely interacted with in the past, the powerful feeling of sand like grace curling warmly around him in greeting before it pulls away. Chuck can faintly recall the feeling from when he had come across the oldest Cosmo as she constantly wondered around the woods around his first hideaway, than when he pointedly went out to find her and praised her on creating the natural born, and now from the grace that had curled protectively around Rowena earlier. The older grace burns hotly compared to the other, happily pressing and dancing against him as it flashes brightly in the dark of the trees. Chuck smiles though he frowns inside, wondering when and how Michael had gotten out of the cage, to Ivory, and was healed of the insanity from the cage without his help.

   Getting to the center of the Garden, Chuck’s eyes widen when he sees four large oaks twisting and turning around each other, the trunks intertwined. Each tree pulses with a different color that matches the grace that helped create it. One as vibrant as Gabriel's golden grace, another the extremely bright but charred blue-silver of Lucifer's, the third a cross between the bright white and dull but thriving white of Michael's aged grace, and the last one like that of Raphael's dark storm grey grace. The branches sway silently in a breeze that isn't there, leaves separating from their branches and falling down towards the ground that get replaced every few minutes, the falling ones disappearing in a burst of sand before hitting the ground. After preening the older being’s hair, the raven spreads its wings, jumping off of Chuck’s shoulder and landing on one of the branches of the storm oak. The kitsune quickly follows suit, batting at the raven as he climbs up the storm oak to get to one of the higher branches of the gold one as the blond wolf curls up next to the combined trunks.

   Rustling comes from the other two trees, causing the Creator to study them. A white dire wolf comes from the white oak, eyes a deep green as it makes eye contact with Chuck. A happy grin crosses the dire wolf's face as it starts to scramble down the tree, stepping down carefully but quickly among the branches. In the blue-silver tree, the largest Bengal tiger he'd ever seen with dark gold fur in place of the orange steps out from the darkness of the glowing leaves. It's fiery blue eyes watch Chuck closely, gauging his reaction to the four trees and the other three of their inhabitants.

   Dawning crosses Chuck’s face as he kneels, watching the white dire wolf bursting with Michael's conscious grace happily bound toward him. If this is the form his eldest has taken in Ivory, than that explains why the kitsune and raven remind him so much of Gabriel and Raphael. After their deaths, the graces of each one must have collected in Ivory’s Garden instead of fading back into the fabric of the universe and made itself form into an animal form. But how, it confuses the old being. The seraphs and other lesser angels are understandable, but the archangels are just too powerful. Even if the archangels used a piece of their grace to ground themselves, they'll still fade into the fabric when they died.

   Frowning, Chuck watches the tiger make its way down the tree, gracefully jumping onto the grass. Dark blue grace swirls around the large feline as it lands, blocking Chuck’s view of it as the grace takes apart the form and remakes a new one in its place. Leathery and silver scaled wings with sharp hooks near the elbow poke in and out of the grace, flickering in and out of view. Beside him, the white dire wolf disappears in a cloud of bright yet dull white grace.

   Finally, most of the grace disappears, most of what's left behind taking the form of sand that flows around the new form on the ground in a circle, the rest forming into miniature sand tornados that orbit the oldest Cosmo. Standing there is a woman, whose eyes are still that fiery blue and shoulder length curly hair a goldish blonde. She's wearing tight black pants and a black formal shirt, feet shoeless, and a ball chain necklace circling her neck. Six barely there shadows shift around behind her, most likely because of the wings Chuck had glimpsed before, which confirms his suspicion of an archangel father.

   The woman looks to Chuck's right, giving the person there a small nod. Surprised, he turns to look, finding the splitting image of a young John Winchester. Michael moves forward, quickly wrapping his arms around his father in a hug. “I missed you, Father.” Michael mumbles in Enochian into the shorter's hair as Chuck hugs him back, several tears sliding down his face.

   “It's been so long, my child.” Chuck says, pulling out of the hug. “I left you all, and you lost your way. So many of you are gone.”

   The Cosmo snorts, gaining the attention of the older beings in front of her. “That is so not true.” The Cosmo says in perfect Enochian, eyes flickering between the two older beings. “I managed to get a piece of every angel in existence and planted it in the inner circle of the Garden. The trees you see here are what grew in their place.” The Cosmo moves forward, hands in her pockets, walking even more gracefully than the archangels, as she rolls her eyes.

   “The animals here are each angel that died. That,” she points to the raven, “is your Healer. We call him Judgement here. The kitsune is Gabriel, we call the… little... troublemaker Messenger. And finally, the timber wolf.” She gives the wolf a smile. “That's Ramsey, he follows Messenger like a lost little shadow and he's a bit of a whore.” Ramsey snorts, glaring daggers at the Cosmo. “You'd know him as Balthazar. The others you just might meet later. The oldest two are more important right now, I know that they are in your plans for Earth and the recreation of Heaven. I'm just going to add Balthazar in to help aid Blackbird.”

   Chuck raises an eyebrow, looking down into fiery blue eyes as he ignores the fact that she speaks Enochian perfectly. Gabriel might’ve had done something, he did notice the youngest archangel’s prolonged roaming of Earth and some odd dimensions before they both left. “How'd you get every angel’s Grace?” He frowns, stepping back a bit from the Cosmo. She always did make him uneasy. “How and why do you know my plans and that the archangels are important in them?” She gives him a look, silently asking ‘anything else?’ “Who's Blackbird?”

   “You know we have a true seer. He Sees things, that’s what a seer does.” The sass and sarcasm is strong in this one, Chuck thinks, grace curling in a chuckle that causes the Cosmo to smile slightly. “He Saw you bringing two of our three favorite creatures here back to their angelic lives. Plus, I've seen what happened to Sam's soul when I was set free from Purgatory. I've been keeping an eye on him and have been keeping his soul together for as long as I possibly can from a distance. Also, Blackbird is that strange little angel you call Castiel.” The Cosmo shrugs, crossing her arms as she easily skirts around Chuck's first question.

   “Now can you draw Amara here?” The Cosmo asks, raising a golden eyebrow in question. “The more powerful the angel is, the harder it is for them to leave the Garden once they’ve passed and formed into an animal. Since these two are archangels,” the Cosmo motions to the raven and kitsune, “they can't leave in their animal forms at all. Due to the fact that they can't leave, I need to be able to help and guide Amara’s power on how it should recreate what the archangels need, and how not to destroy anything in the process. I'll deal with Balthazar’s grace and vessel when you leave.”

   Chuck notes that she doesn't mention how she got the grace of each angel, but wisely chooses to not comment on it as he nods. Instead, he reaches out to his older sister with his grace, lightly pulling and ‘tapping’ on his darker and older half to get her attention. Getting it, Chuck silently and quickly asks her to come to him, sending her some of the memories of what happened while he was here, skipping over Sannah’s prophecy in the process. He gets a silent agreement from Amara before she carefully cuts off the connection, most likely on her way to the Garden.

   Soon enough, darkness surrounds them, and Ramsey quickly presses himself against the tree trunks in fear as he whines. Messenger and Judgement wince, both gripping the branches they're on even tighter to stay in the trees as their dormant graces clench in fear. The Cosmo moves towards Ramsey, her visible sand-like grace curling around him like a shield in protection as Michael moves closer towards Chuck with a barely there wince. The darkness pulls back, disappearing from view yet still felt in the air, just barely, leaving Amara standing straight and tall on Chuck's left. She stares at the Cosmo with an eyebrow raised in question, arms crossed.

   The Cosmo stares straight back, grace going back to its circling movement around her. “So that's what you look like.” She frowns, studying Amara for several more seconds. “Death didn't say anything other than the fact that you're a chick and your name's Amara. I'm Crystal. Crystal Sky.” Crystal’s grace reaches out, waiting for the older being to do the same. Black smoke appears around Amara and reaches out, bumping the sand floating between them before disappearing again.

   With the flick of the Cosmo’s hand in silent encouragement, Ramsey hesitantly stands up and presses against Crystal’s legs as Messenger and Judgement creep out of the protection of their trees. Judgement flits around Crystal before landing on Messenger’s head (who's standing next to Crystal by than), preening the furry ear closest to him while humming softly to comfort the larger animal. Smiling, Crystal holds out an arm and Judgement steps onto it, wings spread out for balance before folding them.

   “This ritual we're going to do is different from what you probably were planning to do, so don't panic. Do as I ask.” She steps backwards as the other two step away a bit as the two oldest beings share a look, Crystal snapping with her free hand to make a large circle appear imprinted into the grass surrounding the four trees. She motions to the cosmic beings and Michael to step into the circle, setting Judgement on the small pedestal that rose out of the ground in front of where the storm oak trunk starts.

   “Chuck, you will be restoring Gabriel's and Raphael’s grace to their conscious state and reform their true forms. Michael will help guide you in what their true forms will look like, he’ll have a clearer memory of what they looked like before they died.” Crystal explains as Judgement squawks a bit, giving the Cosmo a look before getting comfortable. Messenger prances to the large pedestal that rose in front of where the gold oak starts, laying down on it and leaning his head on his paws as Ramsey hops out of the circle, light dancing within his eyes as he watches. Michael moves to the white oak, kneeling in front of it where its roots sink into the ground, smoothing the sand there.

   “Amara, I will be guiding you on how to properly change their vessels as you ‘syphon’ some of your energy to lend to your brother. We both know he's not strong enough to waken two archangels and recreate their true forms at the same time. I’ll also be making sure you don't destroy anything by accident. This is my home and I won't…” she hesitates, searching for the right translation, “like it… if either of you destroy anything.”

   Crystal points to the junction in the center of where the trees meet, indicating that Chuck needs to stand there to be closer to all of the graces at once. As he's climbing up, Crystal pulls Amara after her as she moves in front of the blue-silver oak. “Due to my lovely but preferably completely dead parentage, I'll be able to safely keep the balance between you and your brother without getting hurt in the process.” She moves in front of the older being and sets Amara’s hands on her shoulders, eyes flashing to a deep and dark blue with a single blink.

   More of her grace flashes into view around her as her form wavers, shocking both Chuck and Amara with the strength that oozes out from the black and grey edged grace. In response to the Cosmo’s strengthening call, three sets of eyes brightly glow with gold, storm grey and a dull white respectfully as Crystal starts to chant in a language that only the large kitsune seems to understand, glowing gold eyes zeroed in on Crystal. Her grace thrums lowly and in tune to her words, an underlying feral feeling enticing two other sets of eyes to shift into a bright and brilliant white and to a dark and bottomless black.

   Steam rises out of the circle surrounding them and blocks out sight of Ramsey, who whines at the loss of sight of those inside. Crystal turns her face towards the sky, spotting five of the seven moons sliding into the center of the rising steam. Grace swirls around the trees, one half glowing brighter and brighter as the other darkens into nothingness. The Garden around them stills when Crystal stops her chanting, holding in place before exploding outwards and pressing against the wall of steam.

   The graces fade away, revealing a panting Michael and a now completely solid Crystal leaning rather heavily against Amara in support. “You said it wouldn't hurt you.” the Darkness says, causing Crystal to roll her eyes.

   “I'm not hurt, just... drained. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine once my grace settles down and recharges.” She shakes her head and shrugs, brushing aside Amara’s concern and raised eyebrow at her switch in language. “Tell me how you would feel when you try channeling two beings that are so much more powerful than you, will you?” Crystal gives her a dark look, eyes flashing. “Now, if you don't mind, I would prefer to check on Messenger right now and see if the ritual worked.”

   “You don't know if it works?” Amara asks, giving her a confused look as they head towards the large pedestal nearest them. “Haven't you done this before?” Crystal flips a hand at her in response, smiling widely when she spots the prone form before her.

   Laying on the pedestal is a man who, by the looks of it, is as tall as the kitsune that was previously laying in his place. His hair is the same goldish blond as Crystal’s, though it only curls near the nape of his neck, the strands straighter in the area closer to his forehead and ears. By courtesy of Crystal, he's wearing a plain dark grey dress shirt, a belt, and red pants. Like the Cosmo that created him his clothes, he doesn't have any shoes on. His eyes are closed, though Crystal knows that they'll be the same whiskey gold color as the kitsune’s. The Cosmo kneels down, putting a hand on his chest and pushing her grace through it, smiling when she feels the more conscious wind-like gold grace of Gabriel recharging itself.

   Crystal looks up, seeing both Chuck and Michael kneeling by the other archangel. She can faintly see the stormy grey grace swirling in Raphael’s new vessel, noticing that his grace is recharging much faster than Gabriel's. She frowns, knowing that they should be charging around the same speed as they're close in power, and looks down at the archangel she grew up calling her favorite uncle. With her eyes turning dark blue, she peers closer at Gabriel's grace, and finds a fist-sized hole festering near his vessel’s heart. Crystal quickly covers the spot with a hand and closes her eyes, probing the spot with her mostly recharged grace to find out the problem. The Cosmo gasps when she does, eyes snapping open, the fiery blue widening in shock.

   “Charles!” she calls out, gaining both Chuck’s and Michael's attention. “ I need you to look at this right now!”

   Chuck appears next to Crystal after quickly running a hand through Raphael's feathers, eyes and grace scanning over his youngest archangel. His eyes widen in surprise when he notices the hole, powerful grace snapping around them in shock and the barest hint of fear. “Tell me what you see. Tell me I’m wrong.”

   “This spot right here,” Chuck motions to the hole, “ it looks like his grace was ripped out. The piece still exists, or his grace would’ve been in worse condition than it is now. By the looks of it, the piece has pulled a Voldemort and had latched onto another angel. Most likely an archangel, as they’re the only ones who are strong enough to power the piece of another.”

   Crystal frowns, wondering which one it latched onto and quickly works it out in her mind. Not Raphael, as he had also died. Gabriel's grace would've died as well if it had latched onto him. She had personally handled Michael’s grace when she pulled him out of the cage to fix most of the damage and insanity done to both him and it. Doing so made it easier for her to get him on her kind’s good side, especially since she brought him to Ivory. Throughout the several centuries of constantly working with her oldest uncle to switch his view on things, she hadn’t sensed the familiar grace of the messenger on him. So that leaves…

   “Lucifer.” Crystal states, grace quickly burning cold as it snaps angrily around her. “I need Lucifer. I'm going to need that ungrateful bastard captured alive to reunite Gabriel's grace, and he needs to be in healthy condition. The grace latched onto him when he murdered his little brother during the Apocalypse my Winchesters were the 'stars’ of. I will allow Gabriel out of Ivory and the Garden as long as I fill this hole with own my grace, but someone is going to have to keep a close eye on him so he doesn't strain or stress himself.”

   Breathing deeply to calm down and settle her grace, Crystal carefully guides her grace into the older being’s grace, filling up the hole. “I'll send Rowena ahead so she can talk to Blackbird and make sure Gabriel doesn't work himself into the ground in case Balthazar isn't awakened by than. I'll drop by when I can after that, though there is no promise that I’ll be able to stay long. I do have cities to run, a balance to fix, and kings to put a leash on.”

   Chuck nods, moving forward and into a better kneeling position to look closely at her work. Her grace is a startling silver tinted blue when it's surrounded by gold. “How long will it be until my sons are to wake up? What will their state of being be?” He looks over at her, an eyebrow raised in question.

   “Twelve days for Gabriel, give or take. Talk to him when he wakes up, and only tell him part of what has happened here. Don't mention Lucifer or the state of his grace. Take him to that bar you made and let him wake up nestled within your grace. He’ll be a bit disoriented and in need of some of your comfort. Do the same with your Healer, though he’ll wake up in a week. His health is far better than Gabe’s.” Chuck nods and silently pats Crystal on the shoulder, leaning down to pick up Gabriel's unconscious form and standing up as he wonders how she knows about the bar.

   “And take Michael with you.” It wasn't a question of whether or not he'll take the archangel. “My cousins and children don't like him that much, and I can tell that he wants to be with his little brothers.” Chuck shoots a short look at Amara and nods, his sister and two older sons disappearing quickly from the Garden with flashes of their graces. He hesitates, giving the Cosmo before him a long and searching look.

   “Where did your light come from, Crystal?” He asks as she stands up, watching her suppress most of her grace and cover the part of her true form he can barely see. “What angel gave you his light?”

   “Love is a strange thing, Charles.” Crystal sighs, shaking her head as she turns away, dark grace cracking underneath it's binding, the feral feeling coming back. Moving towards the trees, she stops in front of them and catches one of the many blue-silver leaves falling around her. “Most of those that you have created would do anything for the one they love, even die for them. At first, it was me that my mother would've died for. With my imprisonment, her darkness made that love go from me to the angel who fathered me. Lilith wouldn't have died for just anyone, you know. If you really don't know who he is, than where have you been all these millennium?” The leave quickly dies and freezes, cracking and breaking before it falls apart and out of her hand.

   “Get out and don’t ask me those questions again. If you do, I'll make you regret it.” Chuck hesitates at the sharp edged words before he nods, his mouth snapping shut from his shock as he disappears from the Garden with a flash of light and Gabriel in hand.

   As soon as the pair is gone, Crystal pushes aside the dark urge to go after the bright being and turns to Ramsey. He lightly steps over the circle as the Cosmo pulls on the traces of grace left by Chuck and Amara, now knowing how to make the timber wolf revert back to his angelic form. She'll even recreate his previous vessel and put him back in that for the Hell of it.


   Several months in Ivory pass after the rituals were done, and the seventh moon rises above the large city. The newest prophecy flashes in the currently dark Hall as the combining of Chuck’s grace and Sam Winchester’s soul is completed, creating a new type of angel. Quietly, two men, a woman, and two strange looking winged creatures enter the Hall, turning on the dull lights with their presence.

   The older of the two men, both by looks and age, has his black hair slicked back and black suit pressed tightly to his pale form. He leans the weapon in his hand against a wall, light almost white grey ring flashing in the light as he steps farther into the room. Close behind him is the younger man, moving in step with the older as brown hair falls in front of his eyes, fixing his own grey suit. The woman strolls in behind them, curly brown hair that reaches past her back bouncing with every step. The train of her long grey cloak trails behind her, curling out from around her lethe form as she walks. Sidestepping the cloak of their creator, one of the shoulder height creatures with different mixtures of dragon, wolf, lion, and bird folds it’s partially opened and large feathered wings to its back as the other disappears into the large room. The second one smacks the smaller with it's own leathery wing, huffing in laughter as it continues forward to finish it's search for the one receiving the message it carries.

   Seeing the flashing ball, the older man gives a small sigh, shaking his head as he turns to the Cosmo and the woman much older than him. “The morning star will find his redemption. When, we will find out. Let’s just hope Chuck knows what he’s doing, and plays his cards at the right time.”

   The woman nods, laying a hand on the neck of the Mantintoth Ethereal standing next to her. “Unless he wants to get on my bad side, our brother will do the right thing. Now, if you excuse me, I have to visit the house of Ivory's power couple and start the creation of a counteract to the new archangel. Come, Zirifae.” The woman turns on her heel, leaving the Hall with her cloak fanning out around her. Following close behind her, the Ethereal gives the pair behind it a dark look, sky blue wolf eyes glowing brightly before it disappears.

Chapter Text

   Mary and Dean Winchester pull into the bunker’s garage in the beloved black impala, clear determination on the man's face. Castiel is already moving inside behind the car, waiting for the taller of the two to get out. As soon Dean is out, Castiel moves forward to pull him into a hug, burned yet slowly healing wings curling invisibly around him. Dean immediately relaxes, returning his friend’s hug.

   “What happened, Cas? Why were you outside? Where's Sam?” Castiel patiently waits for Dean to finish his questions, looking Mary up and down before dismissing her for the current matter at hand.

   “There was a woman.” The angel explains, turning back to the taller of the two humans. “She banished me and I just got back. I don't know what happened after that.” Dean curses, moving towards the door into the rest of the bunker and throws it open.

   The tall hunter heads deeper into the bunker with Castiel and Mary following him, spotting the blood on the floor quickly, and feels the panic rising up in his chest. “Sam? Sammy?!” Dean steps towards the library, noticing how large the pool of blood is. “Oh, God, Cas. There's so much blood. Sammy!”

   The sound of something metal falling to the floor echoes around the bunker, followed by a small gasp, coming from the kitchen. Dean and Castiel immediately move forward, rounding the corner with gun and angel blade raised. They look into the kitchen and their eyes widen in shock and, in Castiel's case, awe, mouths dropping open.

   Standing in the middle of the kitchen is a boy swamped by an extremely oversized shirt that passes his knees, one of Sam’s knives laying on the floor in front of him. His curly brown hair reaches past his chin, framing his face and pronouncing the small chubbiness there. His arms and legs are knobbly and badly shaking, barely keeping him standing.

   Swirling around the boy is a silver tinted dark green cloud of smoke, sliding out of every crook and cranny to circle the center of the kitchen. The smoke flashes brightly for a second, almost like it was greeting the kitchen’s newcomers, before it collects a ways from Dean. The hunter raises his gun immediately, aiming at the smoke as it starts taking shape, but Castiel pushes his arms down. “Don't, Dean, you'll piss something much more powerful than her off. Besides, she's not a threat.”

   “Something powerful is at play here? And her?” Dean asks with a puzzled look as a human shape snaps into place, the form of a familiar redheaded woman that the hunter almost shoots at again for the hell of it. Knowing what he wants to do, Castiel takes the gun away, narrowing his eyes in confusion at the woman before them.

   “Rowena? Your soul...”

   “Well,” comes the recognizable Scottish voice of the most irritating witch ever, “of course you thought it was the soul of a several century old witch. It isn't, it’s more like a couple thousand, give or take a few hundred years. Happens when the soul of the first witch is killed and then reborn way too many times.” Rowena quickly mutters something under her breath that causes Castiel to suck in a sharp breath, shooting a look back at the boy behind her. “I'm here until Ivory's first brings back some angel to help your situation. You can call her ‘your Highness.’ Or Mother, if Dean decides to take up the heritage he was born with.”

   With another quick glance towards the boy, Rowena mutters something in a language that causes Castiel to frown, the angel wondering what language it is. “This angel and one of the older ones will take my place when they wake up and is up to date on you Winchesters. I don't like you as much as you like me.”

   “Like I said, Dean, she's not a threat. Now if you please excuse us, Rowena, we want to check on Sam. Standing here isn't calming anyone's nerves.” Castiel starts to move around Rowena, but she waves a hand to push him back and away.

   “No, Castiel. Going near a panicking archangel fledgling without him taking note of you is a way of getting yourself shocked rather painfully. Trust me, I did the same thing when I first got here and it wasn’t pleasant. Give me time to calm him down first.” Castiel quickly nods, but pouts a bit as he steps back to wait.

   “Hold on a minute.” The fanfiction green eyed hunter says, glaring at Rowena as he steps forward and next to Castiel. “Who the hell is this Mother chick, Cas? Why are you so afraid of her?” A hand reaches up to grasp his friend’s shoulder, the other going to the knife hidden in his jacket. “Why are you agreeing to that bitch’s terms? What archangel flooding or whatever it is?”

   “It’s fledgling , Dean.” Castiel gives him a look as he corrects him, annoyance clear in his voice as he eyes snap back to the boy, watching him fall to his knees. “And I'm afraid of her because the last time I ran into this specific being, she broke one of my wings, killed many of my older siblings, and injured many more. It is kind of understandable, as we were trying to lock her away in Purgatory.”

   “You succeeded, too, but with the help of the leviathans.” Rowena flashes Dean a dark grin, brushing aside imaginary dust before snapping a barrier between the two humans and angel and her. “As powerful as she may be, but going against those things and getting out, uninjured or not, is nigh on impossible.” She motions to Mary and Dean with a hand, using her magic to push them and the barrier back before turning to the small boy behind her. Castiel leans against the wall behind Dean and Mary, extremely bright blue eyes not moving from the witch and child in front of him.

   “If you're planning on just standing there, make yourself useful and turn one of those large rooms into a nest. It'll be needed.” Castiel huffs, giving Rowena a dark look before leaving the kitchen. She might not be here, but the angel can feel the grace of Crystal oozing out of Rowena. The archangels saying that they have a bond similar to Chuck’s and Gabriel's is true. It's just more potent, more powerful. It runs much deeper than Chuck being able to speak through the youngest archangel.

   “Besides, now I know why she mentioned miniature archangels as I traveled here. I have to say, little Samuel is adorable.” Rowena makes her way to the middle of the kitchen, kneeling down in front of the boy with a hand stretched out. Hesitating, the boy carefully takes it as she waves her free hand to magically push the knife away, letting the young but old witch to pull him in and wrap him in her arms. She smiles as he relaxes and leans into her touch.

   “Are you saying that that is Sam?” Dean asks, skeptical. “Last time I checked, Sam is a literal giant. He makes me look short.” He moves forward to hop over the barrier, but is quickly pushed back by the now visible grace around Sam and Rowena.

   “How about you tell us who this lovely lady is?” Rowena motions to Mary with a hand, but quickly wraps it around Sam again when he whimpers. “She wasn't in the memo that my goddess said was from Charles.”

   “Well, bitch,” Dean starts, giving Rowena a dark look, “this is my mother, Mary. Mom, this is Rowena MacLeod. She's a witch that screwed the three of us over several times in the past. In some weird way, I can tell that she is someone that I don't want to cross.” Rowena shoots a dark look at him for his first comment, lighting arching down from a light to sap Dean on the nose. Rubbing at the sharp sting it left behind, the hunter continues.

   “The guy in the trench coat that just left is Castiel. He's an angel and a close friend of ours. Cas is sort of like our guardian angel, to come and think about it, unlike the majority of angels.”

   The boy -no, Sam, Dean can recognize those curls now- huffs from where he stands. He lightly pushes Rowena away, not letting go of her dress as he looks over the witch's shoulder and gives Dean one of his classic bitchfaces.

   Dean scowls at his brother's face, crossing his arms as Castiel comes back into the kitchen. The angel sighs in relief when he takes note of the fact that Sam has calmed down, his grace coming down from it's agitated state of wanting to protect and calm the new fledgling. His eyes sweep over to the two humans, giving Mary a nod. He had heard Dean say who he was to the woman, now recognizing the soul that resides within the human body.

   “It's a pleasure meeting you, Mary. I must apologize for how I dismissed you earlier, but I was worried about Sam.” The woman waves his apology off, a smile on the blonde’s face.

   “Don't apologize. You were removed from this bunker by someone you didn't know and Sam was left alone to defend himself against them. Who wouldn't be worried?”

   “Enough of the chick flick moment,” Dean states, giving the two a hard look. “Did you fix some room like Rowena asked? Why would she even ask that?”

   Castiel nods, the barrier disappearing as he herds the group out of the kitchen. “I did. And a nest is important to angels and, I'm guessing, to Cosmos.” He looks to Rowena, who nods in agreement. “Nests, whatever form they take, have a calming effect on fledglings and the injured and make them feel safe. Sam might've been human first, but he is a fledgling in terms to both species.”

   “I'm not a baby, Cas!” Sam snaps, voice as soft and small as it was when he was actually six. “Don't call me that!”

   “You're a couple centuries old, that makes you a fledgling. Especially to me.” Castiel's tone leaves no argument, making Sam go silent after calling him an old man.

   Hesitating, Sam gives Dean a long look from where he stands. “Dean, that whole ‘Cas is the only nice angel’ thing kind of an understatement. They might've done things the wrong way, but some of Heaven's ‘runaways’ would've became good friends of ours if they hadn't died, despite stealing or killing people. Well, Anna failed to do so.”

   Castiel makes eye contact with the witch that’s settled on the two beds he pushed together, neither blinking. The woman had immediately changed Sam's oversized shirt into a pair of red pajamas with small anti-possession symbols on them when they got into the room, using a snap that reminds him of Gabriel to do so. It was than followed by another snap that changed her dress into a pair of her own black pajamas, setting Sam onto the bed to see what Castiel had done to the room.

   Dean and Mary had left the room after they were shown where it was, leaving the three alone to an awkward silence to get ready for bed themselves. Castiel had stayed, not bothering to even find a spot on one of the three beds. Instead, he took the only chair in the room, leaving Mary to take the last bed and for Dean to join Rowena and his brother on the combined beds. Now, he had unwillingly joined a staring contest with the first natural born as the other three occupants sleep soundly.

   “Why are you helping us?” Castiel asks, his voice quiet so to not wake the others.

   “Because she asked me to.” Rowena states, her own voice just as quiet as his, knowing that the angel will know who she's talking about. “Because I knew that you wouldn't know what to do.”

   “How do you know what to do?” The angel had to know more about the Cosmos. They were so secretive about their true forms, on how they were raised and what they were taught. It's not like the famed city, Ivory, was easy to find either. Only messengers and reapers could find it’s dimension and enter the city without any problems or help.

   “She's practically female Michael when it comes to the Cosmos. She raised them all, and unlike Heaven's best warrior, she had help from an experienced caretaker.” Rowena goes quiet as Sam shifts in his sleep, her mainly forest green eyes flickering to the boy as he curls deeper into her side. “We can't exactly hide anything from each other, either. What she knows, I know. What I know, she knows. The only thing is that she still has a hard time with the English language, despite how much the others and I try to help her.”

   Castiel nods, letting the short conversation stop there. He hadn't learned much, but it was something. His eyes slide over to Sam, still in awe at what he sees as Rowena falls to sleep. What little of his friend's soul that was left from being ripped apart in the cage had been filled with Chuck’s grace, carefully knitted together.

   By the looks of it, Chuck knew that the soul/grace combination would change its vessel into something that better suited it, and that it was powerful enough to do so. He sighs, knowing that Rowena was right. He doesn't know what he's doing, especially since Sam is an archangel fledgling. Hopefully, she and whoever's coming could help him understand and do the right thing.


   Amara slides into the booth across from Chuck, sliding one of the glasses of whiskey to him. She swirls around the golden liquid in her own glass, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I have to say, brother, there is something… off… about that Cosmo.” Her statement draws Chuck’s attention away from his three sons, question clear in his grey blue eyes. “I know that my darkness is in her, it calls out to me. It's just… powerful. Strong. Much stronger than the part of me that still infects Lucifer.”

   Sighing, Chuck reaches out and stops the hand that holds her glass as he answers her unspoken question. “It might be due to her parentage. Her mother happens to be the first demon, corrupted by Lucifer while he was still in possession of the Mark, the Mark that held your angered grace. Your grace most likely seeped into Lilith and, from her, into the powerful being that you meet today.”

   “What about her father?” Chuck shrugs, turning to look back at his children as he picks up his glass. He’s still trying to understand what Crystal had said earlier that week their time, but it isn’t important at the moment. Raphael could wake any minute now, and Chuck refuses to let him see just Michael when he does. “Couldn't you have demanded the answer from her?”

   “She is a being of grey that uses magic and rituals that are of a darker nature. I can't really demand anything from her, only ask for answers to any questions that I have if and when we cross paths.” He falls silent, grace bubbling with his fear of seeing what or, more specifically, who Crystal and her people belong to. He just hopes that if he does anything wrong or potentially life threatening when it comes towards dealing with the species, the Grey Lady would let them deal with him and not get involved herself.

   Amara watches her brother slowly drink his whiskey as he silently stews, worry etched on her face and panic clear in her grace. “Do you think this is her getting involved in some way? Since I had tipped the natural balance, is she letting the more powerful creatures that fall under her domain step in and fix the mess that I had possibly caused?”

   The younger being shrugs again, putting his glass down and standing up as Raphael stirs. “It could be possible. Our sister thrives from the balance that is between her, us, and Death, and that balance was upset and almost destroyed when I was dying. It needs to be fixed, and the Cosmos know how to fix the problem.”

   “Should we get involved?” Amara’s voice is quiet, her own eyes turning towards the angels as Raphael’s eyes slowly flicker open. “Is there anything we can do?”

   Chuck shakes his head. “Getting involved isn't what we should do in this instance, as there is nothing we can do. The balance wasn't only upset on the large scale that we stand on, but on the smaller one as well. We don't know how to fix the balance on such a small level. Even if we did, we're too powerful to do so. Trying to do something could make it worse. Leaving it to the professionals is the best thing that we can do.”

   Amara nods, letting her brother walk over to his sons as the third archangel calls out to him. She downs the rest of her whiskey, getting up to pour herself some more.

Chapter Text

   Crowley follows the rather large hellhound deeper into his kingdom, wondering who is the master of this creature. The demonic form beneath the black cane corso is gorgeous, that Crowley has to admit, and powerful. No other hellhound can make themselves visible to the human eye and look like a normal dog at the same time. He was surprised when she walked up to him when he was sealing a deal and had practically demanded that he followed her.

   Now, the doors to the throne room come up in front of them, opening as they get closer. The hellhound easily slips through the crack, leaving Crowley to wait for the doors to open farther for him to enter. As soon as they do, he's through the door shouting his question to the surrounding demons.

   “Who in their bloody mind thought it was a good idea to send me a message when you knew I’d be busy? It almost lost us an important deal, you dimwits!” Irritation fills his voice as he stalks forward, looking around the room. The demons fall silent, the whispering stopping as they look to the raised throne at the front of the room.

   Sitting on the throne comfortably is a woman, the hellhound sitting on her right. Her golden blonde hair is curly and shoulder length, framing the fiery blue eyes that kind of reminds him of Lucifer's. Her suit is a dark grey, fitting her form as it flickers in and out of view. A pool of sand collects on the floor surrounding her, shifting around the throne in a circling motion as small sand tornadoes form at the edge and spiral their way to the center and disappear. Folded loosely on either side of her are the set of wings where the sand comes from, the leathery skin covered in silver scales as the hooks shine and reflect the pale light. The overwhelming presence he hadn't notice until now that fills the room centers around the woman, shadows of a form much larger than the building popping in and out of view at the edges of his vision, the outline of a large dragon's snout barely visible behind the throne. Standing on her left is Cain in a purple suit, one of his hands on the throne as the other lightly runs over the small scales on one of her wings, long greying hair falling in front of his eyes. His soul is clean of the darkness that had turned him into a demon, shining as brightly as when it was first created. Something small, dark, and foreign stirs right next to it, almost on top of the immortal’s soul as it squirms where it rests. Seeing it causes Crowley to frown just as much as seeing the man whose soul it's connected to alive does. How is this guy alive? I saw Dean kill him!

   “I did, Fergus.” the woman states, the shadows shifting at the same time she moves forward. Cain’s hand falls from her wing as the large appendage moves with her, smoothly folding to curl around her back as she stands up. “The way you have been dealing with Hell has been going on for too long, and it needs to be changed.”

   “I'm sorry, do I know you?” Confusion at her familiarity of him and irritation at the use of his human name crosses his face, his hand making its way to the angel blade that's pressed against his back and hidden in the hem of his pants. The woman sighs, the sound of a snap filling the air and the angel blade disappears from it's spot, reappearing in her outstretched hand. She barely gives it a glance as she hands it over to Cain, who pockets it in his suit.

   “Well. Aren’t you just a little ray of pitch black? Did your mother ever tell you about me?” She steps down the raised dais, the demons backing away as she stalks towards Hell's king. Her wings unfold from her back to flare up behind her, eyes narrowing at the demon before her. “Didn't you hear the horror stories about my kind as you transitioned into the demon that stands before me today?”

   Crowley freezes, eyes widening in shock and slight fear as he figures out the answers to her questions, causing the Cosmo to smile. “You're… you…” His voice cracks as he quickly steps back, backing up against the doors that slam close behind him. “You should be in Purgatory.”

   Crystal flicks a hand at him as an invisible clawed hand much larger than both of the hands of Lucifer’s true form curls itself around the demon, a finger of her burning cold human hand curling around his chin to turn his head towards her. Her eyes flash oxford blue, shifting flecks of gold and dark grey barely seen in the solid color as Crowley's own responds with the familiar red eyes of a crossroads demon. “Rowena showed me all of her memories of you. She even told me that you sold your soul for an extra three inches. Is that correct, Fergus?” Crowley nods, gulping as Crystal smoothes out the wrinkles in his suit. “Why would you do that of all things? You could’ve asked for something… more. Maybe something like, oh, I don’t know, stronger magic?”

   “Magic from a demon deal isn't the same as being born with magic, let it be powerful or not.” Crystal nods her agreement, having seen the difference between the natural born and the demonically made witches. “And we both know there is only one being that can give more magic to a boy who was born with little magic and have no side effects.” Crowley pauses, taking in an unneeded sharp breath. “I prayed to you, you know? I asked why you gave me so little magic, I begged you for an answer, and that answer never came. Did you even hear my cries?”

   The Cosmo sighs, turning away as she clasps her hands behind her back. “I heard you. I heard all of you. It was always the same question: Why would you do this to me? There wasn't anything that could be done.” Crystal’s eyes grow distant, the large hand holding Crowley to the door unfolding slightly before she shakes her head.

   “That is besides the point. You will reel in the demons and make Hell go back to what it use to be.” The hand lets the demon fall to the floor, large nails clinking against the concrete before all noticeable hints of it disappear as the hand fades back to whatever dimension it came from.

   “And if I don't?” Crystal waves a hand in silent answer, a large and shimmering window to a dimension somewhere between Heaven and Earth appearing above the throne.

   The window reveals a hospital room fifteen times the size of the colosseum, some beds and chairs spaced between large circular indents in the ground. In some of the indents are large, three headed creatures with one or two sets of wings similar to Crystal’s, much smaller Cosmos curled up in their true forms. The true form of an angel can be seen in the back of the room, it's dark blonde light glowing brightly from the dreams of its deep sleep, an empty vessel for it to enter laying in the bed next to it. Ten other Cosmos move around the room, healing multiple scrapes and putting broken bones in temporary casts before they can be healed properly and in place.

Floating above the bed in front of the window is a man, his soul dully shining through the skin of his chest. The man's hair is a messy and curly dark brown that barely passes his ears, the strands hanging down as they reach towards the bed. His shirt is folded up on the nightstand nearby, revealing six thick deep scratches on his chest and his pants are a faded black color, the man’s matching boots at the foot of the bed. Standing next to the bed is a dark skinned man in completely white clothes, running his glowing hands over the chest of the unconscious man, hovering an inch over the wounds. With each pass, the deep wounds slowly nit together as they get thinner and shallower. At the sight of the human in the grace-induced coma, Crowley sucks in a breath as he freezes where he stands.

   “His name is Gavin, isn't it?” Crystal asks, motioning to the window as she sits back in the throne. “Your son, I mean. I can tell that you care about the human boy, despite what you say. I can see it in your soul. You would do anything to keep him safe.”

   “What… what happened to him? How'd he get those wounds?”

   “A Mantintoth Ethereal.” Cain states, picking at the dirt underneath his nails as his eyes flicker between the demons and the finger he’s focused on. “They're not the nicest creatures out there, the whole lot of them are extremely temperamental. The Ethereals are the go to messengers for those that are considered grey creatures and attack anything that gets in their way. Some are winged, they're usually the faster ones of the lot, and others are not.” He looks up as he lets his hands drop to the throne, seafoam blue eyes piercing Crowley's light green-brown ones. “They're like a poisonous cross between a dragon, wolf, lion, and some sort of bird.”

   Crowley shudders at the image his description gives, slowly moving forward to stand in front of the dais. “Ethereals hunt down those that are labeled as a threat by the grey.” Crystal glances at Cain as she continues, eyes passing over the attached being like it isn’t there as she quickly checks him over, several scrolls appear in her hands. “If you don't do what I want done, we toss him to the Ethereals we took him from and all of Vanic’s hard work would be wasted.”

   He hesitates, eyes going to the demons around them. Fear fills their eyes and twisted dark souls, silently begging him to do the right thing. Crowley sighs, silently stepping up into the dais and bowing before taking the scrolls. Crystal nods shortly as he makes the wise choice, waving a hand to change the scene the window views as it largens. She stands up, taking Cain’s offered arm and stepping through the door-turned-window after the hellhound disappears through it.

   Stepping onto the stone road on the other side of the door, Crystal rolls her shoulders, leaning against the man next to her. As the door closes, the Cosmo lets go more of her grace, letting it flow freely and stretch around her.

   Next to her, Cain takes in a sharp breath as he takes in their surroundings. Frowning, she gives a glance at what the taller is staring at. Spotting it, she takes in her own sharp breath.

   Intertwined in a fight forever frozen are two familiar statues, one created with seafoam grey metal and in the form of a wolf hound, the other made with slate grey metal and in the form of a wingless Mantintoth Ethereal. Its head is in the shape of a lion, jaws wide open in a frozen roar and with it's feathered wolf form standing on its back legs, all four of its clawed front paws bear down on it's fighting partner. The wolf hound returns it's roar with a tooth bearing growl, ears flat against its head as the fur along it's spine stands up. Recognizing the two statues as Abel’s animal form, Spirit, and Ezalyr, Crystal bows her head in silent respect and loss as she remembers the day of their sacrifice.

   Crystal finishes the last sentence of the first half of the ritual, grace snapping around the large arena, both feral and tame at the same time. Standing in the middle of the large circle and bending over in pain is Cain, his black and light blue soul twisting and turning inside of him, the black that the Cosmo knows is the darkness quickly being forcefully separated from it.

   He yells out in pain as the darkness separates from him and it forces its way out of the host it had taken centuries ago, pooling together between its hopefully last host and Crystal. The other person in the circle takes off his hood, revealing what he was hiding as he and the Mantintoth Ethereal steps forward to stand next to the Cosmo. The man smiles, sadness in his eyes as he rubs a hand through his short brown hair. A large scar makes its way across his neck, put there by the weapon that killed him and forever imprinted on his soul's corporeal form.

   “Didn't I tell you we'd see each other again, brother?” He asks Cain, making the older man's head snap up in shock.

   “Abel?” Confusion crosses the face of Hell's first knight as he falls to his knees, mixing with the pain already there as he stares shockingly at his little brother. “I… I thought that the blade destroyed you.”

   Abel shakes his head, carefully making his way around the dark cloud between them. Getting to Cain, he kneels in front of him and carefully takes the older’s face in his hands. “No, no. It just sent me to the Void, unable to speak and in a dimension filled with creatures that could easily tear me apart. That darkness… it destroys everything it touches. I'm honestly surprised that it only turned you into a demon.”

   He smiles as the Ethereal comes up next to them and nudges Abel, silently telling him to hurry up. Abel sighs, his smile turning sad as he stands up. “Ezalyr and I are here for a reason, brother. I'm sorry we couldn't have more time together. Tell your girlfriend that I said thank you for saving my brother.”

   A snort of protest comes from the older before confusion crosses Cain’s face again as Abel and the rumbling Ethereal steps away from him and towards the darkness. Crystal straightens up, eyes flashing with her grace as she speaks towards the air above the cloud.

   “Regrium dysubern gydiouh Juferiup(1),” the air of the arena vibrates as Crystal speaks with the vocal cords of the three large heads of her true form, giving the darkness a piercing look, “goise heftequin hreb(2).” Her grace snaps around Abel and Ezalyr, tightly holding them in place as the darkness turns towards them as it finally notices the pair behind it.

   Moving forward, the cloud takes the form of a large black dragon, stalking towards its prey. The Ethereal growls in warning as the dragon closes in on the pair, lowering its head. With several yards between them, a door that opens to nothingness opens above the pair, vertical to the ground. Tentacles shoot out of the door, curling around Abel and the Ethereal, tearing them apart. Both scream in pain, voices breaking as the dragon roars in anger.

   “Abel!” Cain yells out, forcing himself to his feet and stumbling forward towards the shredded remains of his recently resurfaced brother. “Please, no! Don't do this!” One of the tentacles lightly pushes him away, the others picking up the pieces of the beings they had torn apart.

   With the last piece safely drawn into the Empty, all but one of the tentacles wrap themselves around the dragon, tightening around it. The last tentacle carefully avoids Crystal’s grace and makes a slash in the air, creating another door. This time, the door opens to a large and never ending forest, a large town in the center of it. Floating above the entire town is a grey cloud, much like what the dragon use to be but larger and lighter in color. The cloud moves towards the door, expanding as it gets closer and closer.

   The tentacle waves to the cloud as the others shove the dragon through the door, closing it quickly when the reptile is inside. With a wave from all of the tentacles, they curl together and pull themselves back into the Empty. Once the last one is gone, the door collapses in on itself and closes with a sharp snap.

   With the ritual done, Crystal let's her grace relax and retreat, completely drained of her strength as she crumbles to her fading hands and knees. After raising a hand to snap, the protective barrier surrounding them falls and the familiar feeling of ash and impending doom forms next to the drained Cosmo, her hand falling weakly to the soft sand beneath her. Swooping down, the pale form of one of her oldest friends carefully picks her up into his arms. Crystal relaxes, knowing that the older being could easily take her back to her home.

   “Julian,” Crystal starts, gaining her friend’s attention, “bring him with us.” Julian hesitates, looking at the broken man a yard in front of them. “Please,” she begs, “no one enters our home, he won’t be bothered. You know that the healers will agree with me.”

   Julian sighs, nodding his agreement as he gains the attention of one of the nearby Cosmos. “Vischa, let the healers check the human over and bring him to the house by the cliffs.” The grey suited man nods, giving him a smile, eyes flickering to the Cosmo in Julian’s arms.

   "On it, boss.” He backs away from the pair, joining the group surrounding the sobbing man and muttering quietly to them. Crystal tiredly mutters her thanks before the world goes dark around her.

   Crystal pulls herself out of the memory before it could continue, shaking her head. She wraps a hand around Cain’s, lightly pulling the man forward as she leads him away from the statues. Knowing her partner as well as she does, she knows that he'll have vicious nightmares if he's around the memorial of his brother for too long.

   Instead of heading towards the grouping of homes, Crystal leads the taller towards the hospital at the center of Ivory's Cosmo section, intending on checking on those there. The pair gets closer and closer to the large building, and the sound of an arguing pair finds its way to their ears.

   “You could have let me do something for you for once as I do this.” Comes the laughing voice of Jeneel. “Getting you to date him would be good for you, Rosten. Admit it.”

   “Go find some other angel to torture.” Rosten replies, irritation clear in his rumbling voice. By the sound of it, the persistent Cosmo tried to get the angel to start dating again. “I don't need to be with anyone.”

   The young Cosmo groans, probably rolling his eyes. “You're the only angel who tolerates me at this point, and I really need to pass this exam. If I can't get an angel to start dating someone of their choosing, I'll be forced out of my post at Uedea. You're my only hope!”

   Crystal hides a smile as she rounds the corner, catching their oldest angel resident shaking his head in refusal. “Try getting that angel in the hospital to date that idiotic demon. Balthazar was a wild one when he was younger.”

   “He can't,” Crystal states, a smile clear in her eyes. “The healers won't allow him out until he's in top shape, and he's still out cold. Who's the one you're trying to get him to date in the first place, little cupid?”

   “Asmodeus.” Jeneel states, black hooked orange and yellow wings puffing up on either side at the disgusted look on the older Cosmo’s face. “Don't give me that look, Magic. Even if the examiners didn't choose him, he still needs to get a date, and Rosten just happens to be perfect for him.”

   The angel snorts, irritation clear in his eyes as he turns away. “I might be perfect, but I will not get with him.” Rosten stalks away, four scorched sunset wings rising up in anger and spreading out on either side. With each large flap, the angel rises into the air and disappears into the distance.

   “Why did you choose Rosten?” Cain asks the younger Cosmo, raising an eyebrow in question. “He's not ready for a relationship, especially with someone like Colonel Sanders.”

   “The two of them need some happiness.” The Cosmo states in response, sighing as a defeated look crosses his face. “Especially with what's bound to happen. Sannah showed them what he Saw yesterday.”

   The pair tense, Crystal’s wings flaring open in surprise. “Those two know that the Leviathans want to destroy Ivory. Destroy what we stand for.” Jeneel nods his head, agreeing to her statement before bowing as his grace starts to ready itself to head out himself.

   “They know what is at stake here if they're caught. It's a well known fact that we'll use our most basic instincts to protect what's ours, despite whatever will happen to the Balance.” Jennel’s eyes flicker to Cain, seeing straight to his soul. “I know you saw the memory chamber, Cain. The look on your face shows that you know that everything could be destroyed if any of us go down that path, especially if Crystal does. No offense, Magic, but none of us are willing to try and face you when and if you're Feral. Besides, only few have the strength and knowledge to pull you back. No one wants that, they don't want that. They'd rather die before they get caught.”

   Jeneel’s wings snap open, the bright and large appendages stirring the air as they flap up and down. The cupid-like being gives the couple a final nod, shooting into the air as his physical form fades away. Crystal shakes her head, pulling the surprised and shocked Cain into the hospital as he watches the horned true form of Jeneel disappear into the distance.

Chapter Text

   Rowena leads the group of four into Wal-Mart, Sam resting on her hip. Mary is quietly saying something to Dean as he grabs a cart, pulling her baggy sweat pants up before they fall. The witch's eyes slide over to the older and lower-powered angel of the group, knowing that she'll have to corner him somewhere when he's alone before Gabriel shows up. Surprisingly, Castiel didn't notice the ripple of grace that marks them passing through a portal and into one of Ivory's stores when they walked in.

   She shakes her head, ignoring the curious looks of the other shoppers as she heads towards the kids’ section. “Remember our excuse for the lack of clothing?”

   “Yep.” Dean replies, popping the ‘p’ with a disappointed air. “We flew in to stay with family and most of the luggage got lost along the way.”

   Unfortunately, the only places she knows that sells clothes for fledglings happen to be in Ivory. The souls of her fellow natural born will know who she is, no matter what disguise she uses. Fortunately, with being the personal messenger of Mother Magic, they won't say anything. The downside is that Dean is most likely to try and kill Rowena if he ever finds out she gotten all of them to jump from one dimension to another without telling them that it was going to happen. Thankfully, Mary happens to like her and is still in her ‘Mama Bear’ mode due to her recent resurrection and Sam's change. The same Sam that had refused to leave her arms from when she had first calmed him down yesterday, most likely due to the grace that flows through her from Crystal. Like the fledglings in Ivory, he must find the older grace to be soothing.

   “What do you like?” She asks the small ‘boy’ once she stops in front of a rack of shirts. Sam lifts his head up from where it leans against Rowena’s shoulder, frowning at the articles of clothing before them.

   “Whites are fine.” Rowena scowls, irritation and slight anger crossing her face. Whites are not fine.

   “Sam prefers to wear neutral colors and earth-tones with no designs or logos. He also prefers to dress with several layers.” Castiel states, speaking up from where he stands at the back of the group. “Due to his new sensitivity, cotton would be best.”

   Rowena nods, magically scanning Sam to get his size before pulling shirts down from the rack. Mary soon joins her in picking out shirts, holding up some to get a small nod of agreement from Sam. Quickly enough, the group finishes going through the shirts and move to the pants section, grabbing several pajamas along the way.

   With the pants done, Dean and Mary leave to look for clothes for themselves. Castiel is left behind with Rowena, who's heading towards the changing rooms to double check if the clothes they picked actually fit. She waves a hand over the clothes once Sam pulls them into the small room, hanging them up low enough on the wall for the now short hunter to reach.

   “Why does that dark blue stuff move with your magic like that?” Sam asks as Rowena starts to close the door, making her pause. “I mean… it's like it's making what your magic does go faster.”

   Rowena shrugs, giving Sam a smile. “I can't explain everything. Maybe it's because the one that dark blue stuff is the grace of to is trying to make up on lost time.” She closes the door, locking it in place as Sam grabs the first group of clothes. This is going to take a while.

   With the horrid clothes shopping over and Sam and Mary finally have a pair of clothes they could actually change into, the group drives towards the bunker in a comfortable music filled silence. Leaning against the side door, Castiel had pulled the small hunter towards him as he fell asleep.

   Dean had lowered the sound of the music when his snores started to fill the car, fingers tapping the wheel along to the beat. Finally getting enough of the dark looks from Dean in the rearview mirror, Rowena waves a curtain between the seats, smiling at the snort of laughter from Mary. Sam shifts in his sleep and both angel and witch tense, feeling the crackle of lightning from the boy.

   “We might have to stop the car.” Rowena mutters as she lets her magic rise up around them, forming a protective barrier between them and the mortal humans as she runs a hand through the brown curls. “His grace is starting to get violent. We might not get back in time before it blows.” Castiel nods his head in agreement after giving Rowena a shocked look, oil colored wings curling forward.

   “It'll be best. He'll short circuit the car if it gets bad enough.” Castiel gives Rowena a closer look of inspection, frowning. “Did you learn Enochian yourself? Or did you learn it from Crystal?”

   Rowena raises an eyebrow, silently asking ‘what do you think?’ “Crystal, than. What does she not know?” The question goes unanswered, the witch snapping her mouth close before she could actually give an answer. She gives him a searching and confused look, head tilted and eyes slightly blurry and tinted blue as Crystal’s shifting grace swirls closely around her.

   “Did your wing heal well?” Rowena asks, changing the topic as the question causes the angel’s eyebrows to shoot up in surprise. “After she broke it, did it heal well?” Castiel hesitates before nodding, tensing when another bolt of lightning sparks around them.

   “Stop the car!” The change in language causes the witch to jump in surprise, already pushing the back doors open and getting out. Castiel is quick to get out himself, Sam in his arms as he backpedals towards the trees.

   Dean is quick to try and go after them once he's out the car, stopping short when Rowena narrows solid dark blue eyes in his direction. His hand goes for the gun hidden in the car, quickly being stopped by Mary as she nods to the witch, silently pulling her son back. Rowena moves forward, feet making no sound as she glides towards the two sparking angels.

   Stopping in front of them, Rowena falls to her knees and parts something in the air with brightly glowing hands. Castiel winces with the movement as the lightning arches farther than before, short circuiting the car quickly. Speaking that language Dean and Mary had heard them speaking before, Rowena lays a hand on the boy's back. Immediately, the lightning stops sparking out into the world around him. Instead, it flows through Rowena and disappears into the ground below them. Sam groans and Castiel is the one to say something next, causing the boy to slowly open his eyes. Sam blearily looks around, blinking his eyes as they start to focus.

   He quickly focuses on Rowena and a shocked look crosses his face, probably taking note of the change of eye color. Sam relaxes when she states something, Dean hearing the obvious English name, Crystal, in there somewhere. He responds, nodding as Castiel unwinds his arm from around the boy's stomach. Rowena easily stands up, picking Sam up and helping Castiel stand as well. After changing who holds the much smaller hunter, the trio moves back towards the car and waiting pair.

   “Everything okay?” Mary's question is quickly answered by a short nod from both Rowena and Castiel, the former’s eyes slowly fading back to their normal blue dotted forest green color. “Is the car going to work again?” Comes the second question as Dean gives Sam a side look, taking note of the fact that he's falling asleep again. Snorting with an eye roll, Rowena opens the nearest backdoor as the engine rumbles to life.

   Dean sighs in relief, lightly running his hand down Sam's back before Castiel slides into the back with him, sliding into the front seat himself.

Chapter Text

   Chuck quickly pulls Gabriel into one last hug, letting his grace curl around the taller vessel of his son. His sister's own grace snakes around in the space behind them, quietly talking to the two other archangels as she waits for the pair to finish.

   “Gabriel,” Chuck starts, pulling away, “I won't be sending you back to Heaven.” He shoots the archangel a look to quiet him, eyes scanning Crystal’s patch job one last time. “Let me explain, my son. I'm placing you with a new fledgling in need of guidance and protection. Out of you and your brothers, he and his family will trust you the most.”

   “Father, it sounds like you're implying that this fledgling used to be human. That he knows who I am.” Chuck nods in agreement, fixing his clothes. “Who is he?”

   “Sam Winchester.” Shocked graces flare up around them, causing the old being to groan in irritation. “Don't be like that. And besides, that's not the only thing I want done. I want you to give them a message.”

   Gabriel hesitates, giving his father a searching look. “What's the message?” He finally asks, eyes focusing on the older being’s face.

   “You'll know when you get there.” Chuck gives him a smile, snapping. The archangel disappears with the sound as Chuck turns around, giving his other sons a long look.


   “What happened here?” Crystal asks, voice edged with a cold tone as she and Julian steps into the arena and onto its sandy floor, wings swinging loosely and comfortably behind the younger. Cain trails in behind them, arm slung over a Cosmo’s shoulders as they talk, stopping at the edge. Around them, both young and old Cosmos freeze where they stand or fly.

   On the floor is Balthazar, an irritated look clear on his vessel’s face as he glowers at the small Cosmo standing proudly above him. Said Cosmo is grinning happily, small and underdeveloped wings flapping with the strong emotion behind her. A snicker soon comes from the healer that is suppose to stop the still healing angel from doing anything stupid, his grey-blue laced white wings shaking with his laughter.

   “Well,” Vanic starts, trying to still his wings as best as he could, “I was showing Balthazar around when he saw the others training. He wanted to join, so they put him against one of the fledglings, since it'll be ‘easier’ for him. My little one beat him.” Another snicker escapes, soon followed by the other Cosmos and lone demon as they do the same.

   Balthazar grumbles something incoherent under his breath, pushing himself to his feet. He scowls at the Cosmos surrounding him, eyes passing over the demon like she's not there as he crosses his arms and turns to Vanic. “I wasn't expecting your daughter to be so fast. I bet the same thing would happen to you, Crystal.” He doesn't turn around as he makes his statement, seeing the surprise flicker across the healer’s face in front of him.

   Crystal snorts, moving farther into the training area that the arena was turned into. “No offense to my fellow species, but that's not going to be possible. I trained everyone here, in a way. I know how they fight. And besides, my fighting style is different, due to the power difference.”

   “Power difference?” The question causes Crystal to roll her eyes, the Cosmos huffing in annoyance as the sand arches around her. A Cosmo whose vessel looks around ten points to the area surrounding Crystal, indicating the sand that's shifting around her.

   “Crystal can't keep her grace in a vessel for too long, whether or not she made it.” The fledgling states like it's as obvious as the fact that seeing a new angel in Ivory is strange, rolling his eyes. “It's always surrounding her if she's not wearing a grace suppressant. Julian’s and the All Mother’s graces do the same thing, though they’re not noticeable if your grace isn't sensitive.”

   Balthazar frowns, not understanding what the fledgling had just said. Vanic sighs, shaking his head. “It'll be easier if I just compare us to your kind. Well, power wise, anyways. Crystal is an archangel while the rest of us are seraphs and cupids. Archangels will always come out on top unless some idiot seraph downs a bunch of souls and leviathans.”

   Several snort at the description of Castiel during the angels’ first civil war, turning away from the group to continue their training. Crystal motions to Balthazar and Vanic, lightly pulling them towards Cain and his companion at the edge of the arena with her grace, the demon following close behind them. She and Julian share a look of amusement as Vanic curses, wings tightening to his back in irritation.


   Rowena lightly shakes Sam awake, eyes focused on the door that leads into the bunker as Dean and Mary climb out of the car. “We're here, little bird, and we have company.” The witch states as Sam groggily wakes up.

   “Who?” His question goes unanswered as she steps out of the car, knives, guns, and angel blades being drawn as the now familiar glinting dark green magic circles tightly around them. Layered under the magic is Crystal’s dark grace, centered closely around Rowena as it's sand like feeling softly brushes past Sam and Castiel. Pressing up against the barrier of magic is a wind like grace, arching and spinning around the room in an untamed dance as it's golden glow brightens.

   “Come out, messenger.” Sam frowns, eyes going to Rowena before continuing to watch the grace. Castiel straightens up where he stands behind him, eyes searching for the angel the grace belongs to.

   Stepping into the room is someone Castiel and the Winchesters thought they would never see again, Sam tensing as his eyes find the archangel. Dean moves towards them, easily passing through the barrier and stopping in front of the now smaller hunter. Gabriel grins when he sees Rowena, eyes glinting with familiarity.

   “So you are my niece’s own personal messenger.” Gabriel states, his grace barely calming down and pulling away from the barrier. “That explains why her grace is all over you and barely responding to me. Tell me: how's the whole constantly being partially possessed thing working for you?”

   Rowena rolls her eyes, the barrier hardening and curling tighter around them. “It was weird at first after we reconnected with each other during this rebirth, but you get used to it.” She frowns, giving the archangel a long and searching look. “But can you tone the grace down? Now is not the time to do a power display.”

   “Tone it down? Tone it down? I can't just do something without getting a good enough reason, witch.” Gabriel narrows his now grace-filled eyes, grace snapping around the room. Rowena meets his gaze, straightening her back as the barrier crackles around them.

   “It's best if you four go into the bunker. I'll beat him into submission… I mean cooperating... somehow.” The witch states without moving an inch, eyes now glowing with her magic. Castiel immediately picks Sam up, handing him to Dean and taking the hunter’s gun. Herding the younger three through the door, Castiel gives Rowena a nod as he passes by.

   Gabriel gives the four a curious look as they leave, shock and surprise clear on his face when he spots Sam. “I knew that he was given grace, but that…” His voice trails off, glowing gold eyes still trained on the door.

   “We want to show you something, Gabriel.” Her statement draws his grace filled gaze towards her, question clear on his face. Whiskey gold eyes meet heterochromia ones, one the blue dotted forest green of Rowena’s and the other the solid blue of Crystal’s true form. “Will… can you trust us?”

   The archangel nods his agreement and Rowena steps forward, raising a hand. Gabriel hesitates before taking it, and feels a stomach dropping feeling the second they touch. He closes his eyes to block out the sight as the garage swirls around them in a storm of colors, a familiar but now much stronger grace pulling his mind away from his true form and vessel.

   Crystal's grace lightly drops the pair on solid ground, the spinning feeling stopping as Gabriel stumbles the second he touches the carpeted hardwood floor. He shakes his head to get rid of the pounding headache from being forcefully moved around mentally before opening his eyes, mouth dropping open in shock and awe as he takes in the space around them.

   The storm of colors had settled into what seems like a never ending library, rows and rows of large wooden bookshelves with twenty shelves filling the space. The shelves are filled to the brim with unmarked leather bound books, all circling around a single spot. Lights are placed on the stained wooden tables, each table with silver cushioned chairs and set between the rows of bookshelves, the glow a warm and welcoming yellow color. At the center of the multi-floored library is a large hole, a strong dark blue glow emitting from whatever is kept there, pulsing like a heartbeat as it flickers like a flame. Rowena hides a smile as she sees the look on his face, rolling her eyes.

   “Welcome,” the witch states quietly as she steps forward, “to the Library of Memories. In here is all of the memories from what Crystal has experienced, beginning from the second she was conceived to now. It grows every hour.”

   Gabriel nods, barely paying attention to what she says as he turns in a slow circle. From the black depths above, bookshelves drop towards the edge of the circle, quickly followed by small books that fly in from the hole, some growing in size as they zoom around to fill the shelves. Rowena snaps her fingers in front of his face, gaining his attention.

   “Follow me and don't touch anything.” She turns on her heel, heading towards the railing surrounding the large hole. Gabriel follows at a slower pace as the Library shudders, a ceiling forming over the floor they're on. The Library gives another shudder, probably walls forming on the new floor. The archangel gulps, eyeing the new ceiling as he jogs to catch up to Rowena.

   They reach the railing and Rowena taps it, a stairwell forming on the inside of the hole with the small touch. She steps on the stairwell and it jumps into motion, moving the witch downwards. Gabriel hesitantly steps onto it himself, tensing as it moves him forward in a large downward spiral. He looks down the hole towards whatever's creating the glow, covering his eyes from the brightness before turning away when he only sees flashes of images.

   Around them, more books float upwards and separate into different floors, zooming out of view. A few move against the flow, heading down and towards the source of the light. Curious, Gabriel grabs one of the rising ones as it passes by, pulling it closer to take a look at its cover.

   Along the front is a couple words in what the archangel recognizes as Trillion, the language his nieces and nephews use on a daily basis. Not surprisingly, the language has changed and expanded after he had cut ties with the majority of his family. The only thing he can translate out of the words is Cain. Gabriel shakes his head and opens the book, frowning when he finds only blank pages. He runs a finger over one of the pages, feeling for any hidden words when the book pulls him into a disorienting and confusing memory.

   “I don’t want to lose you.” Cain tells the other being, leaning his head against Crystal’s side as he breathes in a strong whiff of her perfume. Vanilla, hot sand, and salty water. How she says the strange combination of scents surrounding her is not perfume, he doesn't know.

   “You won’t.” Her statement is confident as her large silver wings curl tightly around them, the powerful muscles flexing to move. Surprisingly, the area around the large appendages is as cold as ice. Cain sighs, fighting the strange urge he’s feeling to reach out and touch them.

   “How can I be sure?” She hesitates, eyes flickering to the side as the shadows of her true form shifts around them.

   “There’s only one way to find out…” The Cosmo mutters, grace shimmering around her hands as she pulls it to the surface of the vessel that overlays only part of her true form. Cain’s eyes flicker to her face before going back to her hands, watching the center of the dark grace take form.

   “Oh yeah?” He asks, raising an eyebrow in question. “And what’s that?”

   Gabriel is roughly pushed out and onto the stopped staircase as the book is snapped shut, barely missing his fingers as manicured hands take the memory holder away. He looks up, tense as he meets feral looking solid blue eyes, specks of gold and grey shifting widely within them.

   The eyes are set into a feminine face framed by long and curly goldish blonde hair. Her hair reaches half way down the cloak the woman is wearing, it's dark blue color lined by silver. She’s wearing a slim floor sweeping dress, its coloring the same as the cloak covering it. Brushing off the marks left by his fingers, she lifts the book into the air and lets it go. Now free, the book continues its way up to whatever floor it's supposed to be on.

   “I thought she told you to not touch anything, angel.” Voice as cold as ice and as sharp as a blade, her grace searching eyes bear into Gabriel's golden ones.

   “I… I…” He stutters out, not finding the words to say anything. Rowena sighs from where she stands behind the newcomer, turning around.

   “Stop scaring the poor angel, darling.” The witch's tone draws the woman's probing eyes away from him, annoyance clear in her accented voice. “Crystal will do as she fits to him once she shows. There is nothing you have to do.”

   The woman snarls, revealing long and pointed canines as the air crackles around her. “Do you forget who I am, you stupid insoluble little child? I've been here since the beginning, and have more freedom than you when it comes to my tamer half!” A snort follows her words, Rowena rolling her eyes as she guides Gabriel around the obstacle between them.

   “You're a Feral,” the word is spat out with obvious distaste, venom clear in the witch's Scottish accented voice, “you don’t have freedom here. The only good thing you're for is managing the Library and making the uncontrollable beings go extinct.”

   Snarling, the woman gives the pair a dark look before disappearing with a puff of smoke. Rowena sighs in relief, shoulders relaxing from their tense position. She pulls on Gabriel’s arm, leading him farther down the stairs as a large machine-like thing takes shape in the light. The majority of the golden machinery takes up the circular room, the top caved in like a pensive and smooth and dent free like the rest of it. From the center of the indent is a hole where the light comes from, images floating down and being sucked in with the sound of sizzling water. Near the stairs is a large shelf that’s filled with several books, two more floating down and taking a place among those already there. With a small pop, a book appears on the shelf and slides off, floating into the air and disappearing into the space above.

   Silently moving forward, Gabriel stares up at the light above them, surprise clear on his face. “Is this…?”

   “The place you can see my memories without bothering me?” Crystal finishes, walking down from the staircase and to the machine, reaching out a hand and running her fingers over the books on the shelf. “Yes, it is. Just be careful on what memories you choose if you visit more after this. What you view might not bother me, but your emotions and reactions do."

   She turns around, and the archangel gets a clear view of what his niece has grown into. Her vessel looks exactly like the woman on the stairs, though her hair is much shorter and her eyes a normal looking fiery blue color and more human like. Easily bypassing the flickering ‘physical’ form of the Cosmo, Gabriel takes a glimpse of what he can see of Crystal’s true form, eyes widening in surprise at what he sees. As he suspected, gone are the eyes that were way too big for her heads, now comfortably situated into the shadow-covered and fully grown raven, dragon, and tiger that make them up now. Also covered in shadow are the six scaled and hooked large wings he had watched slowly grow in over the years, shaking out kinks and pops before folding back to her completely hidden feline-like body. Flicking behind the younger being’s multi-dimensional form is a tail with ten large spikes, ends pointed and deadly looking as they swing back and forth.

   Raising an eyebrow, Crystal steps forward as a hand smacks the archangel aside the head to stop his studying of the younger being. Her look alike joins her side, unblinking eyes trained on Gabriel. “I will excuse your staring at my true form for not seeing me in millennium, but there are things that need to be done. Look into the light, Uncle. See the memories to learn what you need to know.”

   With the finality of her words, one of the books slides into the machine. Once it disappears into the darkness, images start sliding out into the light above them, growing larger and larger. Flickering into view, the image that appears before them sucks the group in, pulling them into the memory it represents.

Chapter Text

   Julian pulls out a stool and sits down, rolling his eyes as he flexes out his grace. The old being knows exactly who is trying to sneak up behind him, though he silently applauds the other’s attempt. “There is no point in doing that, sister. I know it's you.”

   Groaning, the older being steps farther into the kitchen and into his line of sight, her Ethereal bodyguard's claws clicking on the tile ground. Pulling off her cloak, the Grey Lady sets it on the island. Smiling dark chocolate eyes meet light brown as she sits down next to the other, silently sending him a sense of calm waiting.

   “Did you know that Crystal still thinks she is with them?” The lighter being asks, sliding a glass and the pitcher of lemonade to the darker being sitting next to him. “That she wakes up screaming from the nightmares she has of her time spent in Purgatory? Sometimes the time that she spends here and on Earth seems so surreal and unrealistic to her, that all of it just seems like something the leviathans had made up.”

   The Grey Lady hesitates with her answer, taking the time to pour herself a glass and sip the lemonade as she rolls the information over in her mind. Eyes going back to her guard, she silently nods towards to the staircase leading to the floor-expanding bedroom above them. Complying to her silent demand, Zirifae stands and steps out, leaving the two alone.

   “I never knew this.” She sets the glass down, turning to her little brother. “It's not like I hang out here with the Cosmos or spend any time exploring the realm our brother has made. Besides, Crystal is the resilient type and rarely opens up to others, not even me. She kind of reminds me of Charles in that way. Both have a very stubborn nature.”

   Julian shakes his head, standing as an alarm goes off. He opens the stove, pulling out the large sheet of cookies. He shrugs at the older being’s raised eyebrow, setting the sheet down. “What? They're a well-liked comfort food in this house. Besides, Crystal was freed into a world that even I have trouble wrapping my mind around. After with the whole Apocalypse thing several years back and Heaven's civil wars, the planet feels different from before. It feels damaged… weak… unreal. You can take your pick of how you want to describe it.”

   “I understand your concern about my favorite Cosmo. What those abominations had done to her… I wouldn't even subject my worst enemy to that fate, and one of our brother's oldest children did it to her.” Julian nods his agreement as he sighs, sitting down again as he offers the other the plate of sweets. She takes one, waving the Ethereal back into the room.

   “What are you going to do with Crystal and this infestation?” The being asks his sister, taking several cookies for himself.

   “Oh, I don't know. I'm not really sure about what I could do. With the state that she's in, it's best to find someone she trusts to be the most involved in this. Cain, maybe. Or Gabriel. On the issue of the leviathans, we both know that the only one who could deal with them isn't as reliable as we want her to be. It's clear that the Cosmos’ most basic instincts are dangerous, even when they are stuffed down deep inside. You know that the Feral are hard to keep in line, especially her.” A dunk into the lemonade finds part of the cookie in her hand soaked, gaining a long and disgusted look from Julian. She gives him a smile, taking a bite out of the strange combination. “Trust me on this, brother: Crystal will not want to talk about it or give into her base instincts, even if she knew it’d help.”

   Gabriel drops onto a cold metal floor that immediately makes his blood run cold, heart beating widely in his chest. Beside him, the other three immortal beings step easily into the memory around them. Pushing himself to his feet, the archangel gets a good look at their surroundings.

   Large bars rise up into the pitch black sky in the distance, his father's visible grace oozing from them and the floor. A light can be seen far above them, seemingly getting closer and closer every second. Rubbing feeling back into his arms, Gabriel quickly recognizes what this place is: Lucifer’s Cage. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he looks back at the light above them, though now he can see that it's actually four different colors.

   His eyes widen in surprise and fear as the lights crash onto the cold floor as a ceiling covers the top of the cage, rattling the whole thing with their impact. Lucifer is the first to clammer to his large paws, shaking his heads as he adjusts to being in his vesselless true form again. Sam soon follows him, jolting wide awake and jumping to his feet in seconds. His eyes widen in surprise, soul shrinking into the physical body that it still resides in.

   Around them, the cage latches onto what it ‘thinks’ is the easiest prey of the four as it shifts into a forest made from Sam's memories of one, screams quickly filling the air. Sam winces and several large snorts come from above him, eyes shooting upward. Gabriel didn't have to look at the man's soul to know that he's surprised. He was the same way when he first saw Lucifer after his creation.

   A large dragon head curls down to look at the now smaller male, three horns elegantly sloping back several yards from between the blue scaled ridges of its icy blue eyes. Several long and large scars make their way down the dragon’s face as two long and sharp canines extend downwards from the creature’s mouth, curling under the diamond cutting jawline of his snout. Following close behind the dragon on it's left side is the head of an Asiatic lion, it's long blue tinted silver mane moving in the wind. Like the dragon head, it's eyes are an icy blue that seems like it can see soul deep. On the dragon's right and staring down at Sam is a sharp beaked barn owl, silver outlined unblinking eyes zeroed in on the human far below it. It hoots, moving forward to get a closer look. Sam steps backwards, eyes quickly moving away from the three heads and down towards the rest of the large being’s true form.

   The heads are connected to long short furred necks, combining to form into the feline body below it in a way similar to a cerberus. Multiple scars run up and down the silver tinted flanks, some still red and vibrant while others are pale and almost unnoticeable. Folded over the scars are large three sets of scorched blue wings, patches of missing feathers dotting the plumage and showing the still healing skin underneath. Moving as quick as a fish behind the larger-than-he-imagined archangel is a ten spiked tail, the pale spikes glinting in the fake moonlight.

   Sam's mouth drops open in shock as he stops, his fear and shock letting one of the large heads move in front of him and take a sniff. “Lu… Lucifer?” The dragon head huffs, smoke curling out of the nostrils as the slits of his eyes expand. Unnoticed behind the archangel, a much larger form clammers to its feet, wings flaring out for support.

   Like Lucifer, Michael’s feline shaped body is covered in fur, the whiteness long and flowing in the wind. In some spots of the fur, the white color is much duller, most likely due to scars from previous wars and fights the archangel was in. His tail whips back and forth, the scorpion like barb on the end oozing a clear liquid that Sam thinks is probably poisonous. Connected to his body are three long necks, the heads completely different from Lucifer’s. The middle head is a white furred eastern wolf, green eyes scanning the cage around them. On the wolf’s right is an golden eagle, it’s white feathers a mess from the landing. To the wolf’s right is an Eurasian sparrow hawk, its own feathers just as messy as the eagle’s. Spines similar to a cactus’ make their way down all three necks, meeting at the base and making their way down to the tip of Michael’s tail. His three sets of wings are much larger than the other archangel’s, the bright white feathers re-aligning themselves as he shakes the large appendages.

   Taking note that Sam has stopped his study of him, Lucifer turns to face the now oriented Michael, rumbling growls finding their way out of the dragon’s and lion’s throats, an angry and short scream coming from the owl’s. Michael’s heads snap around, responding in kind to the younger archangel’s warning. With only the sharp snap of his barbed tail as warning, Michael crouches and jumps, wings spread out wide on either side. Lucifer jumps to meet the older in mid-air, wings propelling him forward with claws out. The pair of pissed off archangels meet in the middle of their arches, the force of their colliding graces shooting outward. Sam cries out in fear and pain, getting blown back and deeper into the forest. On the other side of the archangels, Adam’s prone form flies into the distance as the earth shakes from the larger beings’ falling forms.

   What feels like a sharp hook pulls the four into the next memory, dropping them in front of an empty house. Standing in front of them is Sam and Adam, the taller moving forward to stand next to the younger. San heaves out a sigh, shooting the archangels starting another fight a dark look before looking down at Adam.

   “Look.” Sam lays a hand on Adam's shoulder, quick to pull the younger man away from the two fighting archangels. “I know you’re angry, and you have every right to be after everything that’s happened, but-”

   “Stop!” Adam quickly pushes his hand off his shoulder, turning sharply on the older and several inch taller Winchester. Anger and betrayal dances within the man’s eyes, shocking Sam to the core.

   “Wh-” With his eyebrows furrowed in confusion over his eyes, the hurt is clear on his face.

   “Stop pretending that everything’s alright now!” Adam backs away from the other, his hands shaking in his anger. “That you had nothing to do with what happened! All of this is your fault!”

   “Adam, how is this my fault? It's great, with you existing and all, but it was Dad that helped bring you into this world, not me.” His brutal words causes a wince from Adam, and the older continues without a second of hesitation. “If you weren't a Winchester by blood, Adam Milligan , you wouldn't even be in here. If you weren't a Winchester, it would've been me and Lucifer and Michael and whoever that asshat of an angel had coerced into saying yes to him. Do not put all of this blame on me for what our father had done, whether or not it was intentional.” Sam turns on his heel, heading to the house. With a sharp snap, the door slams shut behind him.

   With another sharp hook pulling them away, Gabriel shivers as he takes in the bars of the cage that he hopes is for the last time. Standing in front of them are Lucifer and his true vessel, the non-human now looking like the vessel he had first taken. Sighing, Lucifer pulls away as a light grey glow draws closer to the cage.

   “I am so sorry for hurting you.” The older mutters in Enochian, eyes watching the glow come closer and closer. Sam shakes his head, turning back towards the archangel.

   “I forgive you, Lucifer.” He states in response, easily catching the archangel’s eyes to stare straight into his icy blue gaze. “I know… it wasn't easy, keeping your promise. I know you didn't mean to hurt me.”

   Now the glow stops in front of the cage, a barely visible shape of a dragon in the now identified cloud. The shape disappears as the cloud compresses, taking shape of the familiar form of Death. With his slicked back black hair, lined face, neatly pressed suit, and white stoned ring now back to its rightful owner, the old being looks seemingly ageless. Death gives the pair a sad smile, and with eyes that glow light grey, his gaze flickers between the two as the cage parts in front of them.

   “He wants you back, Sam.” Death states, holding a hand out for the human to take. “Your body is waiting for you on Earth.” Sam reaches out to take it but hesitates, looking back into the depths of the forest-looking cage.

   “What… what about Adam?” He asks, giving both supernatural beings a worried look. Lucifer sighs, a sad smile on his face.

   “Death came for him earlier.” Sam sighs in relief, but another look of worry crosses his face. “I don't know where he was taken, but I bet it was to a place right for him.”

   Death nods, eyes flickering to the forest fading away behind the two. “He is in Ivory. I know the gods and goddesses there rather personally. They will watch over him with care.” Lucifer draws in a sharp breath at the mention of Ivory, eyes widening in surprise. He nods in agreement to Sam's questioning look, calming the human down.

   “I have come across them several times before I was caged and when I was set free. All of them are fair beings, and very caring when it comes to the charges under their care. Your half-brother will be well cared for in Ivory and the dimension it’s in.” Sam nods, reaching out and taking Death's hand.

   With a wave of his other hand, Sam's form shrinks as the force keeping his soul in its shape disappears, glowing brighter and brighter. A snap of his free hand forms a business case, opening it up and sliding the bright soul inside. With a click to indicate the case closing, Death gives Lucifer a once over.

   “Until next time, Morning Star. We will meet again, I can promise you that.” With his parting words, Death steps away from the cage as it closes behind him. With his vessel stripping away, the cloud takes the old being’s place as it flies up and out of Hell.

   Standing next to Lucifer with his mouth wide open, the whiskey gold eyes of the now second youngest archangel watches Death disappear into the distance. Behind him, Crystal waves a hand and their surroundings fade away, the Library and its machine taking its place.

Chapter Text

   “And so,” Castiel states as Rowena pulls the still shocked archangel into the library behind her, “I learned in the hardest way, to never wound what you can’t kill.” Sam sits on the chair in front of him, eyes wide with his interest of the older angel’s story. Dean passes back and forth from bookshelf to bookshelf behind Sam, eyes shooting to the hallway to the garage every few seconds. Mary leans against the table next to Sam's and Castiel’s in her new set of clothes, watching the two in front of her with a small smile on her face.

   Spotting the pair walking in, Dean stops his passing, drawing the other three’s attention with the absence of his footsteps as he straightens up. Heading around to Castiel's side of the table, Gabriel slumps into the empty chair there as his air saturating presence bubbles away to a feather like feeling. Narrowing his eyes, Dean moves forward to stand behind Sam with crossed arms, letting Rowena take the seat next to the smaller hunter.

   Gabriel gives the group of five a once over, eyes resting on Sam. Sam meets his eyes, not saying anything as he watches the golden grace swirling around the vessel and within whiskey gold eyes. Sighing, Rowena waves a hand in front of Sam's eyes, gaining his attention.

   “You know, if you keep studying him, your grace is going to reach out to him. Are you ready for that, little bird?” Sam quickly shakes his head, shrinking back into his seat. Rowena sighs, draping a hand on the back of Sam’s chair as she leans back in her own. In front of them, both Castiel and Gabriel frown, a hint of concern flickering through their graces.

   “Why do you call me ‘little bird?’” Sam asks, turning towards her instead of back to Gabriel. “I’m not a bird, last time I checked.”

   A smile barely passes her lips, amusement clear in her green eyes. “I can see your true form, though barely. One of your heads happens to be a bird, though nothing is clear on what species it is.” Dean frowns, though a hint of amusement is in his eyes.

   “Heads? As in more than one on whatever this ‘true form’ shit you’re talking about?” Rowena and the two angels nod, slight irritation in Gabriel’s eyes as he turns to Dean.

   “Yes, heads as in plural.” Castiel states, ignoring the irritated feeling he can sense in his brother’s grace. “We have three, though what they are differ from angel to angel.”

   “And from Cosmo to Cosmo.” Gabriel adds in, trying to stuff down his irritation towards Dean as best as he could. “There’s similarities between siblings, but that’s about it.”

   Dean shoots him a dark look, and Rowena quickly snaps a curtain between the two. “That’s staying up until you two can be civil with each other. Now, Gabriel, I have several questions I want answered.” Taking a deep breath, the archangel lets his grace relax as best as he could before giving the witch a long look. He meets her eyes, noting that they’re back to normal, and gives her a nod.

   “What happened right after you were brought back?” Comes her first question, gaining a raised eyebrow from those around her. Gabriel shares a quick look with Castiel, shrugging at his confused expression.

   “That's the weird thing, little messenger,” the short archangel states in his vessel’s Southern accent, “I'm not really sure. The last thing I remember rather clearly is my big bro stabbing me and then BAM!” The loud noise and snap of grace makes Sam flinch, hand grasping the nearby feathers of one of Castiel's wings. “I woke up for a few seconds and the feeling of grace everywhere before I blacked out. After that,” the archangel shrugs again, “I woke up in a bar with a prophet turned father, two older brothers, and an aunt who is supposed to be locked away. No one's telling me anything.”

   He gives Rowena a smirk, eyes flickering around the library. “You lot won’t be much help either. Messengers are careful in how they word and answer things and Team Free Will always don’t know the full picture.” Rowena just gives him a long look, agreement clear in her eyes as a dark smile barely passes her lips.

   “You got me there.” Rowena agrees, hand lightly playing with the small hunter’s curls. She ignores the annoyed look she gets, eyes trained on the archangel in front of them. “Guarded secrets and carefully worded answers are what stopped me from dying this time around.”


   Amara sighs, lightly running a hand through the storm grey feathers in front of her. Why her brother gave the angels wings and feathers, the dark being doesn’t know. Raphael winces as she pulls out another broken feather, the red hole left behind quickly filling up with grace to get rid of the small pain.

   “Tell me, nephew, why did you provoke your brother into a fight with you?” Her tone causes a guilty look to cross his face, the emotion fluffing up his feathers. A sigh escapes his vessel’s lips as he shrugs, casting his eyes to the floor.

   “I was… what, annoyed? Angry? Is that what humans call it now?” Raphael shakes his head, standing and moving to a seat when his aunt silently tells him she had pulled all of the broken feathers. “My brother had told me that the Apocalypse was what Father wanted to be done after He left. To find out that that was not the true plan…” His voice trails off as he gets lost in thought, folding his wings into a different dimension to avoid them hitting something.

   Rolling her eyes, Amara heads to the bar and grabs a bottle of whiskey, waving a hand to pull several glasses down from the wall. Heading back to the table, a glass settles down in front of the archangel. He gives her a confused look, and she shrugs. “It’ll barely have an effect on you. Besides, you’re well past old enough to drink and it’ll help us through this conversation.”


   Adam slowly blinks his eyes open, frowning in confusion when he doesn’t spot the now familiar walls of hell the cage had created for him. Instead, a room with deep mahogany walls and black ceiling greets his eyes. The sound of footsteps and what seems like feathers rubbing against each other echoes around the room, the source coming closer. Another pair of footsteps is quick to follow the first, separating when they get to either side of his bed. Frowning, he goes to move his head towards one side, his body tensing when pain shoots through him. With a gasp, his mouth opens with shock at the sudden feeling.

   “Relax, grujine hipuj.”1 A female voice coming from his right tells him, soon followed by a hand running through his hair. “Try not to move, it’ll just cause you even more pain.” Another hand joins the first, except going to his neck. Delicate fingers lightly messages the tense muscles, relaxing them to move Adam’s head back to its previous position.

   He goes to speak, tensing yet again at the pain that follows the movement. The woman sighs, and Adam sees her shaking her head through the corner of his eye. “What did Dmoria tell you, hikàne?”2 A male voice says from his other side, somehow smooth, calm, and slightly cold at the same time. “Movement will bring you pain. Just project your thoughts and we will hear you.”

   Hesitating, Adam tries to do what the man has said. It takes a while for him to pick a thought to ‘project’ to them, but hesitation is clear in his mental voice. Will this even work?

   “Of course it will.” The woman -Dmoria- replies, removing her hands from their spots on his head and neck. Her face slides into view, and Adam gets his first view of the one that’s been healing him. A dark skinned woman stares down at him, her natural hair pushed back by a black headband. Slightly angled light brown eyes studies his face, flecks of dark grey moving lazily within them. Her eyebrows furrow in thought as she meets his eyes, lips pursed as she seems to look deeper into his eyes.

   “If you didn’t catch it, grujine hipuj, my name is Dmoria.” She smiles at him, straight teeth perfectly white. “I’m one of the healers in this lovely place. The softy on your left is Julian.” With a wave of her hand, the man soon takes her place.

   Julian gives him a small but amused smile, a hand lightly grasping the man’s chin. “How do you feel, Adam?” He asks, lightly pulling Adam’s face left and right as he looks him over. Something shifts in his eyes, a hidden power darkening the whites.

   Tired… sore… worn out. The man nods thoughtfully, pulling back when Dmoria shoos him away. Why? What happened to me? Where am I?

   “Don’t you remember?” Dmoria asks him, dark eyes settling on his face. “You died.”

Chapter Text

   “That was not what happened,” comes the loud voice of one of Ivory’s favorite twins, pulling Cain’s attention towards one of the many corners of the library. “There was no flinging of people anywhere, okay?”

   Huayuiel sighs, running a hand through his hair as he gives Huayaiel a dark look. “Look, Huaya, lying isn't going to help you. I know you inside out like the back of all my hands, and I see through every white lie you tell. You're a messenger and soul inspector, lying isn't your strong point and neither is fighting.”

   The shorter twin hesitates as Cain stands and moves closer, pulling a book down from one of the tall shelves. “Is anybody listening?” Huayaiel asks, eyes flickering to the surrounding books as he tenses.

   Frowning, Huayuiel waves a hand through the air, his grace arching from its path. The red grace spreads out around the twins, crackling as it searches for the grace of any listeners. Cain tenses as the grace passes over him, sparks running up and down his clothes.

   One of the twins curses, which one he doesn’t know, and the sound of wood scraping against the floor fills the library. With a shake of his head to get rid of the black spots filling his vision, Cain pulls down another book, making his way back to the table he claimed.


   A large, black van makes its way towards the bunker, windows darkly tinted. The silhouette inside the van bobs their head to the sound of music, fingers tapping along on the wheel. Their eyes flicker up to the mirror, checking on the two cages in the back. A smile crosses their face, and they turn the music up.


   Rowena gives the archangel next to her a dark look, clearly not amused. Several days had passed since Gabriel had joined them, and his nerves are starting to get the best of him. In the past hour, four mild pranks had been pulled, and the last one had the witch coming close to banishing the archangel.

   On the other side of the room, Dean is helping Castiel pick the larger pieces of tar out of his hair, the hunter shooting his own dark looks at Gabriel. Sam is curled up behind them, a spot of tar on his own face. Thankfully, that’s the only tar that the fledgling had gotten hit with. The majority had gotten onto Castiel, covering his vessel and true form.

   Mary soon comes back into the room, a large bucket of soapy and warm water in her hands. She sets it down by the trio, pulling out several rags. Two are immediately given to Dean and Castiel, the pair putting them to good use. Mary heads over the smallest of her sons, carefully rubbing at the tar.

   “Want me to help, Cassie?” A concerned look crosses Gabriel’s face before it’s quickly wiped away.

   “No.” The archangel sighs, leaning against the wall with crossed arms. Giving him another dark look, Rowena heads to the angel in need, eyes scanning his wings. Despite the dark color, she can clearly see the tar among the feathers. The large wings that Sam was standing behind when the tar prank was tripped.  Reaching out a hand, she carefully starts to pull out the easier large clumps of tar from and out of Castiel’s feathers.

   A small ‘thank you’ comes from the angel, and Rowena gives him a small smile. Going to reply, she freezes, eyes widening in shock as Crystal’s grace shakes unexpectedly. A memory quickly makes its way across their bond, taking the witch over.

   Crystal looks up, a snarl on her faces, a small angel she can tell is about four hundred and twenty-five years younger than her, his galaxy covered black wings spread out around him, and eyes too blue to exist wriggling in her arms and under her. True be told, his true form reminds her of Gabriel's. She won't do much damage to him, only what can be healed and won't have any long lasting effects. Her claws dig into the base of one of the black wings with their beautiful markings, making the angel cry out in pain.

   "Castiel!" Another screams, wings a sandy brown color and their true voice laced with a British accent.

   "Balthazar! Help!" Castiel cries back, a clawed arm reaching out to the British angel. Crystal's claws dig deeper when she sees the Leviathans coming towards them, making the young angel cry out again in pain. At the sight of the Leviathans, all of the angels but Balthazar back away, knowing that they would take the dangerous creature hurting their youngest brother.

   Crystal raises her heads defiantly at the Leviathans, a low growl coming out of her throats in warning. The Leviathans growl back, circling the oldest Cosmo and her captive. Coming down the path is a demon, white eyes wide and filled with anger, but is also filled with fear. Lilith.

   “Don't!" She calls out. "Please don't take away my daughter!"

   Rowena is quickly pulled out of the memory, her mind swaddled in golden grace. A voice comes from somewhere above her, laced with the voices of their true form. She slowly and carefully opens her eyes, only to find her vision filled with gold. Snorting at the sight, the gold pulls back and the witch gets a look at the person kneeling above her. Gabriel worriedly looks at her, his grace filling his eyes and lighting them up. One of his hands is still placed carefully on her forehead, most likely to help his grace pull her back to her body.

   “Can you hear me, little messenger?” Gabriel asks. So he was the one she was hearing.

   Rowena nods, and the world falls into darkness as she blacks out.