A woman, who looked to be in her late twenty's but was actually alive before the world was created, stood with a hand on door knob. "Thank you," she said gratefully to the man standing across from her. "You don't know how much this means to me."

"Aw shucks," the man drawled sarcastically, "Isn't this what family is for?"

"I did threaten to expose you," the woman reminded him. "But still, brother-."

The man waved his hand dismissively. "Yes, yes. Your eternity grateful for my awesomeness that is going to save your little ass from the others. I would say you're welcome, but, well, I do have a reputation-"

"As the Trickster," she finished. "Yes, I know."

There was silence then, as neither knew what to say. Then, "Are sure you want to go?" the man asked seriously, which was quite unlike him. "You can't ever come back," he warned, "Not ever. I'm going to have to pull some serious mojo. I'll be putting my sweet ass on the line for you, which I never do for anyone."

"You'll be fine," the woman reassured, then added wryly, "I should know."

"I'll take your word for it," he promised. "I would say goodbye, but…"

Impulsively, the woman leaned over and kissed the man on the cheek. "I have a feeling we will be seeing each other soon. Until then, brother." She twisted the knob of the door without another word, admitting a otherworldly bright light with ripples passing over it. She took a slow, deep breath and passed through it, closing the door behind her.

The man took a deep breath. Turning around, he summoned a sucker from nowhere and took a long, slow lick. "Good luck, kiddo," he murmured. "You're going to need it."

2011, Heaven, Raphael's office.

A knock sounded on the wooden door.

"Enter," Raphael commanded from where he was sitting at his desk.

The door opened, revealing a man in a pressed suit, his face devoid of any emotion as he entered to room. "You requested to see me, sir?" he asked as he moved to stand respectfully in the middle of the room, hands clasped behind his back.

Raphael leaned back in his chair. "Yes. I have noticed you excellence in your line of work. I would like to congratulate you, as well as offer you an assignment."

The lesser angel lowered his head. "I will be honored take on any task you assign me, sir."

"Excellent. As you know may know, there was a disturbance earlier. Not many know this, Mikel, so I would appreciate it if you keep this to yourself…."

Men of Letter's Bunker, 2017, Present.

Dean slammed the book he was reading closed and took a swig of his now room temperature beer and grimaced.

"Nothing in there," he announced to his brother, who sat across from him reading an ancient looking text. "You would think with all this info these old liberians hoarded, there would be something about Nephilim in one of these lore books we've been reading day in and day out."

Sam looked up from where he was reading tiredly. "It's not like they knew for certain angels were real, Dean. Much less a Nephilim."

"Then what is all this good for if it's useless?" Dean grumbled.

Sam just rolled his eyes and continued reading. Dean got up and stretched, his back cracking as he did so from lack of movement. For lack of anything better to do, Dean went to go check on Cas, who Dean insisted on him to come back to the bunker after his near death experience at Ramiel's farm, to rest up and relax. Dean had also offered tentatively to Mary, who appreciated the offer but declined, saying there was a case a few states away south of there that needed her immediate attention.

He found Cas in Sam's room watch re-runs of M*A*S*H, his trench coat off and thrown over a chair.

"Hey, buddy," Dean greeted, sticking his head in the door.

"Dean," the angel acknowledged with a slight tilt of his head.

"Are you, uh, feeling better? Need anything?"

"I'm feeling well, and do not require anything at this time," Cas assured, and gestured to a stack of notebooks on the bedside table. "I took some ancient books and translated them for you should you and Sam would like to look through them. Unfortunately, they do not mention anything about Nephilim's, but are more on how to counteract spells witches like to concoct and use."

"I'm sure that'll be handy. Thanks, Cas."

Cas nodded and continued to look at him. Dean shifted awkwardly. "Well, I'm going to the kitchen. Sam's in the library if you want to keep him company."

Cas looked thoughtful. "Yes, perhaps I could be more of use there, reading the books you can not. Maybe I should be going soon to get on with my search."

"I'm glad your back on your feet," Dean offered weakly, and started to make his way to the kitchen, thinking maybe he could convince the angel to stay at least one more night before he got back on the road searching for Kelly Kline and her baby.

Starting a pot of coffee - it was sure to be another sleepless night - Dean looked through the fridge and smelled a box of Chinese food. Wrinkling his nose, he tossed it in the trash and made a note to go out for some fresh groceries. Leftover lasagna it was then. Dean went through the motions of turning on the ancient oven once the lasagna was in, and as he waited for it to heat up he wandered back into the library where Cas now joined them.

"Let's find a hunt," Dean suggested as he walked in. "We've been in here for days reading all kind of books. And we found zip. Nada. The walls are closing in on me, man."

Sam sent him an unimpressed look. "I really think we should stay here, until Cas recovers at least."

Castiel interrupted. "I'm feeling fine now from the incident at Ramiel's. I no long require rest now that my Grace has replenished."

Dean gave Sam a look as if to say, See, he's fine.

Sam sighed. "Alright, but you're going to be searching the 'net. I'll be sifting through those books Cas said he translated last night."

"On it," Dean said, enthusiastic about getting fresh air despite his current circumstances of researching.

It took about an hour surfing the internet for any suspicious news articles before he found a potential case. As he texted Sam the news, he sat back in his chair and watched Cas translate a book that was in ancient Greek into a spare notebook Sam had bought just for that purpose.

"Looks like we got ourselves a witch," Dean said as Sam shuffled into the room. He scrolled down the police reports. "Looks like the guys insides just turned to liquid. The M.E. says he died of tuberculosis, but according to the his medical records he was never diagnosed with anything. And it still doesn't explain how his insides are goop. Hey," he added as he turned to look at Sam. "Are you listening to me?"

"Yeah," Sam muttered distractedly, his brow furrowed. "Cas, I thought you said those books were about witch spells and how to counteract them?"

Cas look up from where he was writing. "They were."

"Not this one. It seems to be a journal from a priest dating back to the reign of Rome." Sam skimmed through the book, his brow creasing as he read. "Seems this person was big on angels, no surprise since he was a Catholic priest."

"And how does this help our case?" Dean asked impatiently.

"It doesn't. What's curious is that a Catholic priest has openly written a piece of evidence that could be used against him if found on him during that time period."

"And?"

"I believe the Romans were ruling at that time," Cas said. "If I remember correctly, Christianity was disapproved of and you were put to death if found guilty of believing."

Dean tried another angle. "It's not like the Padre ever met one. Cas said angels haven't walked the Earth in thousands of years."

Sam shrugged and scanned a page, clearing his throat. "Listen to this first entry, guys. 'I feel I can not rest tonight, the events that transpired last evening still fresh in mind. There is also fear there, fear of what would happen if our current ruler found this. After I have written these events, I plan to take this journal and bury it in some far, unknown place, where years from now it is my hope it will be found again and used from some purpose, not matter how lucid this make me sound. This evening, as I walking home from my workplace, I stumbled upon a woman crying in the streets. Truthfully, I have no idea why I stopped, reader. Perhaps it was the sound of her sobs; so broken hearted they were, as if she had nothing to live for.

'Madam?' I asked while walking up to her slowly; I did not wish her to think I meant her harm.

'May I ask what is causing you to cry so? Tears stain your cheeks like the world is ending at dawn's next light.'"

Dean snorted. Sam ignored him and kept on reading.

"'The women look up at me and it was if my breath was stolen from my lungs. While her face was of a rather pretty young woman, her eyes looked like they held centuries on knowledge in their depths. And suddenly, I knew what she was. Immediately, I threw myself down at her feet, sure I was about to be smited by my lack of actions for not recognizing a winged being of Heaven.'"

Cas leaned forward, looking intrigued.

"'Fear not,' the angel said, wiping the tears from her cheeks, 'For I bring you no harm. Please, have mercy and quit groveling at my feet. I am my Father's child, so are you not my brother?'"

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Dean muttered in disbelief, and motion for Sam to keep reading.

"'I admit, I was hesitant to do so. Me, a man made of flesh and bone, a man that was capable of sin, able to call an angel my equal? It was blasphemy. However, rather than risk her wrath, I did as she asked.

"Surely it is not my place," I humbly said as I stood up. "But why does a one of heaven's warriors weep so sadly?"

"I weep for the world," she informed me. "Many years from now, when these people are all but dust and there is nothing left of these stones, when the moon and sun circles the Earth millions of times, the End of Times will come to pass."

A chill went down my spine at her forewarning. 'Why are you telling me this, bright one, should this not happen until lifetimes away?'

She tilted her head. When she looked at me, I felt like she looked at my soul. 'Perhaps I found you worthy of answering you question. You do not pray to false idols Romans are so fond of using. You have doubts, but you ask forgiveness. You wonder if the world is ending. I assure you it is not. 'When the Righteous Man sheds blood in Hell, so will the first seal break.' '

Her words were fact, I realized, this was a destiny long foretold. "You humble me," I said, bowing my head, and indeed I was honored.'

"Alright, that's enough." Dean shook his head. "So a priest sees and angel, big deal. I don't see how this helps us with the Devils love child a bit."

"It's interesting," Castiel said, looking thoughtful. "He's not a prophet, and this was vital information he was given. Sam, what happened next?

"Uh," Sam combed through the pages. "So it looks like they talked some more and the priest eventually took her back to his house where they 'broke bread by dining on a modest dinner of meat and bread' and when the priest woke up she was gone."

"Did it mention a name?"

"Not that I can see…." He flipped through the notes that seemed to take up the rest of the journal. "Ah ha!" He pointed to the last sentence. "The last entry: 'At last, through various sources of research and answers to my prayers, I have concluded that the angel who came to visit a year ago - could it have been so long? - is in fact the Angel Dieul. The angel of knowledge; how fitting her name seems considering our circumstance our meeting brought.'"

Sam looked up at Cas when he made a noise. "You okay there, buddy?"

"I'm fine," Cas insisted. He leaned back in his chair. "Dieul," he said wistfully. "I haven't heard that name in a long time."

"Buddies?" Dean asked warily.

Cas nodded. "Yes. Dieul was Keeper of Heaven's Archives, you know. It's where us angels store everything we know, to use it for later on. When she died almost a hundred years back, the whole Host of Heaven took a day to mourn her death."

"Heaven's Archive's," Dean said interestingly, "With all that data in there you would think they would have some info on Nephilim."

"I am not on Heaven's good side," Cas pointed out. "So it is unreasonable to think they will give what we need willingly, nor will we be allowed to step a foot in there."

"We may not have to." Sam squinted at the book. "Dieul gave the priest a spell. 'A backdoor' is what she called it. To Heaven's Archive maybe?"

"It couldn't hurt to try," Cas agreed.

Dean clapped his hands. "Let's get this show on the road. What's the ingredients?"

Surprisingly, it turned out to be a mix of common herbs, a phoenix feather, and the blood of the people who wished to enter.

"I wonder why the priest never used the spell. I'm sure he was curious," Dean said as he mixed the contents of the bowl. He handed it to Sam when he was done.

"Hell, I would have."

"He was a devout man," Cas said. "Living in a time where he would be persecuted for his beliefs. An angel had appeared to him and trusted him with knowledge. Despite Dieul's reassurances, it seemed he did not want to be smote. And so he followed orders."

"The difference between him and I."

"Indeed. Several angels have wished to smite you."

"I'm done," Sam announced before Dean could answer.

He finished making the Enochian sigil on the door and stepped back. "Odo Lap Ol A Iadnahmad," he recited. The sigil flashed and then blazed, shining brightly like a star. Opening the door that once led to a bedroom, it now contained a bright, shimmering light. Only looking back once, Sam stepped forward, disappearing completely. Dean and Castiel followed, shutting the door behind him.