The Winter Angel

Summary: Supernatural X Captain America: The Winter Soldier. *SPOILERS FOR THE MOVIE!* While hiding from Hydra, Fury calls in help from an unlikely source: the angel Castiel, who agrees to help Steve, Natasha, and Sam Wilson take down S.H.I.E.L.D and the mysterious assassin, the Winter Angel.

A/N:

Hi! So, I just watched the Winter Soldier today, and I absolutely loved it! However, this gif on tumblr

( post/83384298233/spent-my-easter-afternoon-giving-bucky-wings-what)

as well as my own crazy imagination, made me whip up this quick little crossover. It's not very detailed, but I hope you enjoy it just the same. The idea wouldn't leave me alone, and I had to do something about it! Maybe at a future time when I'm not swamped with other projects I will expand this one.
Anyways,on to the feature presentation!

5 Years Ago

"Hello?"

"Dean?"

Dean's eyes widened in shock, but changed to relief. "Cas?"

"Is he okay?" Sam asked.

"We all thought you were dead. Where the hell are you, man?" Dean asked, worry creeping over the relief he first felt.

"A hospital."

"Are you okay?" Dean knew that was a stupid question, Castiel had banished himself, of course he wasn't okay!

"…No."

"No?...You wanna elaborate?" Dean said, a little harsher than he meant.

"I just woke up here. The doctors were fairly surprised; they thought I was brain-dead."

"S-so, a hospital?" Dean was still hung up on that part, apparently.

"Ow," the angel hissed as he repositioned himself on the bed. "Apparently after Van Nuys, I appeared, bloody and unconscious, on a shrimping boat off De LaCroix. I'm told it upset the sailors."

"Oh, well. I gotta tell you man, you're just in time. We figured out a way to pop Satan's box."

"How? Ow."

"It's a long story, but look, we are going after Pestilence now, so if you wanna zap over here…"

"I can't zap anywhere," Castiel said, a defeated tone to the simple statement.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean my batteries are…are drained."

"What, you're out of angel mojo?" Dean asked, incredulously.

"I'm saying that I am thirsty, and my head aches. I have a bug bite that itches no matter how much I scratch it. I'm saying that I'm just…incredibly…"

"Human," Dean finished, the true weight of the situation hitting him. "Wow, sorry," he said, meaning it. It must suck to go from a BAMF angelic soldier to a simple human.

"What I'm saying is that I can't go anywhere without money for an airplane, or food. More pain medication, ideally," Castiel said matter-of-factly. Even being an angel he had a good grasp of how the human world worked.

"Alright, look, no worries, Bobby's here, he'll wire you the cash."

"Dean, wait—"

"I will?" Bobby asked from his chair. Both Dean and Sam shot him a look.

"You said no to Michael…I owe you an apology," Castiel said with sincerity.

"Cas, it's okay."

"You are not the burnt and broken shell of a man I believed you to be."

"….Thank you. I appreciate that," Dean said, the snarkiness of the comment hiding the real appreciation he had for Castiel's confidence.

"You're welcome."

Castiel hung up the hospital phone, and started trying to figure out exactly how to get to Bobby's. Sam and Dean were going to make a play for Pestilence, and Cas couldn't help them at all.

"I hope I'm not interrupting?" a male voice asked. Castiel looked up to see a tall black male, dressed in black clothing and a black trench boat, an eye patch over his left eye, standing in the doorway of his room. Castiel unconsciously tried to sit up a little more, recognizing a commander when he saw one. The soldier in him tried to straighten up, while the fugitive wanted to try and make a run for it. The several armed guards outside his door made him put a pause on that particular plan.

"Um…who are you?" Castiel asked. The man entered the room and pulled the door closed behind him. He pulled a chair up to the side of the bed and sat down. He fixed an intense look on Castiel with his one good eye, and Cas stared right back.

"My name is Colonel Nick Fury, head of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. S.H.I.E.L.D. for short. But, the more important question is, who are you?"

"Um…Castiel…Novak," Cas said, remembering that most humans had two names as well as his vessel's surname at the same moment.

Colonel Fury nodded. "Alright then, Mr. Novak, you wanna tell me what you are?"

Castiel hissed in pain as he shifted on the bed. He tilted his head to the side, and gave the army commander his most confused look. "I'm sorry, what do you mean?" he asked innocently.

Fury tsked him. "Mr. Novak, I didn't become head of the most expansive intelligence agency on the planet without learning a few things. Like what's normal and what's not. Appearing bloody, unconscious, and with an unknown sigil carved into your chest on a ship in the middle of the ocean is not normal. There are plenty of people who, finding you, would have taken you into a dark corner of the world never to be seen again. They would have poked and prodded you until you almost died, and then let you heal up long enough for them to continue poking and prodding."

Fury leaned in close towards him, and Castiel flinched slightly. This was not a human that he should anger, especially sense he was, for the most part, powerless and therefore, useless. He didn't want to admit it, but this Fury character was making Castiel's stomach roll with fear.

"Now, luckily, SHIELD was notified of your…odd appearance…before it got leaked elsewhere. And luckily for you, I found you first. See, I deal in the paranormal. In fact, most of my most powerful agents are, what we would call, anything but normal. So, I'll ask you again. What are you?"

Castiel looked away from the man. "I'm no longer what I was. And I have nothing to tell you. In fact, I need to leave."

Castiel started to get out of the bed, throwing back the blanket and moaning quietly. He gritted his teeth and tried to swing his legs out of the bed, but the pain was distracting. Fury watched his struggles for a few momoments, and just when Cas was about to put his feet on the floor Fury stretched out an arm and gently pushed him backwards onto the bed. Cas toppled over with little resistance. The former angel gave Fury an indignant glare.

"Hm. Yep, I'd say you're ready to fight your way past half a dozen armed SHIELD agents in order to escape this hospital. Listen, Castiel, right? Let's cut the crap right now. Do you really think you can get to a bus depot or airport on your own, and help your partners try to take down someone named Pestilence and trap another one named the Devil, in your current condition?"

Castiel looked at him. "How did you-?"

"I figured tapping your phone would lead to some interesting information gathered. And it looks like I was right. The tech guys owe me some money."

Cas's head fell back against the pillow. "You won't believe me," Castiel said simply.

Fury grinned, but it wasn't one of mirth. "Try me. The crazy mass riots and gang wars, the weird weather patterns, the chaos, the destruction that's been engulfing the world for the past almost year, do you have anything to do with that?"

"It's the Apocalypse," Castiel said simply.

Fury simply nodded, like he heard such things every day. "Alright. And you're a-?"

"Was, and Angel of the Lord. But, I fell, and have no powers anymore."

"And your partners, they're going to help stop the world from ending?"

"Yes. Well, they're trying too, but we're not sure if they actually can," Castiel said tiredly.

Fury stood suddenly, and started gathering the clothes that Castiel was found in and placing them in a pile on the bed. "Alright then, Castiel, here's the plan. I like my planet running just like it is, and I'm not going to let anyone destroy it. We'll take you to meet your partners, to stop this Pestilence. On the way, I want all the intel about whatever your race is, what you are doing here, everything. Understand?"

Castiel nodded slowly. "Deal," he said.

Present

"So, Hydra has taken over SHIELD. What I want to know is, what did they do to Bucky? I remembered him, and he never had wings! What was he?" Steve said, asking the question he, Sam, and Natasha were all wondering.

Fury leaned up slightly, the myriad of injuries making it difficult to move, but he managed to fix an intense look on the Captain. "Wings?" he asked for clarification.

"Yeah," Steve said. "And no, I wasn't seeing things, Sir. Real wings, black though. Almost like he was—"

"An angel?" Fury offered, and Steve nodded slowly. "Yeah. Sorta like that."

Fury looked around the underground bunker they were currently hiding in. He motioned for a soldier to walk over. "I need a pen and paper, now," he said slowly. Rodgers, Natasha, and Sam watched as Fury wrote down a list of items and gave it to the soldier to find in the nearby kitchen, and he painstakingly drew a symbol on a second paper. He gave this to Steve, and he looked at the circle and the circles, lines, and squiggles inside. "Sir?" he asked.

"You need to draw that on the floor somewhere," Fury commanded. Though Steve and Natasha shared a concerned look, they did as they were told.

Twenty minutes later, the strange symbol was "written" on the floor with a roll of duct tape they found, and the herbs from the kitchen mixed in a bowl. The bowl was sitting in Fury's lab, and he sent away everyone other than Sam, Steve, and Natasha. He tried to light a match, but his fingers were trembling from pain and weakness. Natasha gently took the pack of matches from her commander's fingers.

"Sir, what are you doing?" she asked quietly.

"Asking for some help," Fury said. "Now, place this bowl in the circle and light it. Don't ask questions, just do it, okay?"

Fury sounded so tired, but determined, and the three simply followed his orders. Natasha put the bowl in the circle, and dropped a lit match in the bowl, the burning smell reminiscent of incense from a cathedral.

"This is Colonel Nick Fury. I'm praying to the angel Castiel. I hope you remember how I helped you five years ago? Well, I'm calling in that favor, Castiel. Please, we need your help."

"An-angel, sir?" Steve asked.

"I think the doctors might have missed a nasty concussion," Natasha offered.

There was a rustled noise, like wings flapping, and the three of them turned around, startled to see a man in a tan trenchcoat, navy blue tie and suit, with dark hair and piercing blue eyes, standing and staring at them. He looked past them, and saw Fury in the bed, beaten up and almost dead.

The man stepped forward, not even paying attention to the trio, and strode forward to stand at the edge of the Colonel's bed.

The man looked Fury up and down slowly. "I saw your funeral on the television. My condolences, Colonel Fury," he said, his small frame housing a strangely gruff voice, one aged by some otherworldly tone. He shook the Colonel's good hand offered.

"Castiel, glad to see your wings are back."

"Yes, new and improved actually. I was promoted to Archangel. I could heal you completely, if you wished," he said. Fury shook his head. "No thanks. I like working under my own power."

Castiel nodded, and Sam finally cleared his throat. "Hi, um, I'm sorry, but who are you? And where the hell did you come from?"

Castiel looked down at Fury, who watched the three fugitives. "His name is Castiel, he's what you would call a consultant for SHIELD. Castiel, this is Natasha Romanov, Steve Rodgers, and Sam Wilson."

"Can we trust him?" Natasha asked simply. Fury nodded. "Yeah. He's actually already pulled this planet from the frying pan once before."

"You've saved the world?" she asked, her tone betraying her disbelief. He looked more like a tax accountant than a hero.

"Remember those gang wars, the diseases, the bizarre natural disasters five years ago?" Fury asked. Sam and Natasha nodded, but Steve looked lost. He'd woken up after the fact, it seemed.

"Turns out our planet was caught in a war between two brothers attempting to settle an old family quarrel," Fury said.

Steve cleared his throat. "What two sides?" he asked.

"Heaven and Hell's, respectively," Castiel said. "Michael and Lucifer, the two oldest archangels in existence, with whole realms on their side. They were determined to destroy each other, and were going to take the planet with them."

"You mean…Heaven, and Hell? Like actual Heaven and actual Hell?" Sam asked. He chuckled nervously. "Sir, this is way above my pay grade."

"Yes, Heaven and Hell exist. Demons exist, as do monsters, and, Angels," he said, motioning to himself.

"You're an…an Angel?" Steve asked, awe in his voice. He was a Christian, and he was stuck with complete honor that an actual angel was talking to him at all. Aliens he could handle, but angels, demons, God? It was amazing and terrifying all at once.

Natasha scoffed. "God doesn't exist," she said instantly.

Castiel chuckled. "Like I haven't heard that one before."

Before Natasha could come back with another snarky comment, Fury cleared his throat. "Look, I didn't call you here for a theological debate."

"Then why did you call me?" Castiel asked.

Natasha stepped forward and handed Castiel the faded picture they had of the Winter Angel. It was a grainy surveillance camera photo from the intersection where Steve had fought the assailant to a standstill. He had shoulder length hair, and a metal arm, and black wings sprouting from his back.

Castiel stared at the photo for a few moments, then looked at Fury. "Is he the reason you are currently hiding in his underground bunker?"

Fury nodded.

"It turns out that SHIELD has been completely infiltrated by the Nazi science division Hydra. They are going to take over the planet and turn it into a dictatorship, and anyone who steps outside the party line will be executed immediately. This guy seems to be on their side, he almost killed us. We have no intel on whoever this is. He's simply referred to as the Winter Angel. Is he one of yours?" Fury asked. Steve bit his lip to correct Fury—they did have intel, it was his best friend, Bucky Barnes, dammit!

Castiel sighed, a sound that was both incredibly sad and bitter. "Dammit, Buckeriel."

"Who?" Steve asked, shocked the angel recognized the picture.

Castiel affixed his intense stare on Captain America, and the soldier, to his credit, held the stare until Castiel looked elsewhere. "Buckeriel. One of Heaven's toughest angels, he was sent to Earth for a specific reason in 1944. He was sent here to be your Guardian Angel," Castiel said.

Steve's eyes widened in surprise. "My…my what?"

"Guardian angel. Very few people are assigned their own personal angels, but it happens on occasion. Of course, that was before your…enhancements," he said, eyeing the Captain's large muscles and size. "Once you were able to take care of yourself, we sent the order for Buckeriel to return home, but he dropped off the grid. He must have been captured, had his memory wiped, turned into a weapon for yet another evil army to command."

There was a silence in the room for several minutes. "So, what do we do, Colonel Fury?" Natasha asked. "Since we seem to have an angel looking over our shoulders, what's the plan to defeat Hydra?"

"We have to take it down from the inside," Fury said.

"Which means we take down SHIELD," Steve said.

"We must do whatever is necessary to defend this planet," Castiel said. "I will assist in any way I can."

Defeating Hydra was a lot easier when they had an Angel on their side. Many of the Hydra/SHIELD agents' eyes became ebony around him, so telling friend from foe was easier. He managed to show Sam several maneuvers to avoid the big gun fire and dodge missiles.

Once all three heli-carriers were falling, Castiel watched as Buckeriel, the Winter Angel, dragged Steve Rodgers from the waters surrounding the old SHIELD headquarters, saving his enemy's life. Though it seemed Bucky had no real memory of his charge, the fact that he saved him meant that, somewhere in his heart, Buckeriel still remembered his old duty, and his old friend.

Buckeriel remembered Steve Rodgers.

Maybe, Castiel thought, I can find him and remind him of his past.