Fallen

Book 1: Angels, Angels, Everywhere

Chapter 1

- A New Player -

Dean Winchester raged against the invisible bonds that held his body immobile as an angry fire burnt across his mind. The anger was mostly aimed inwards, at himself, at his stupidity and impotence. That he had walked into Zachariah's trap was bad enough. Worse, he had dragged Sam and Castiel into it with him. But what really, truly made his anger burn, was that Zachariah had known just how to lure him here. Even the mere idea that the angel knew him well enough to manipulate him made him furious.

It really was such an obvious trap. An evangelic preacher had contacted him several days ago, claiming he'd heard the angels discussing a way of destroying Lucifer once and for all. Unable to pass up an opportunity—any opportunity—to save the world, Dean had taken the bait. Now, that same preacher was standing only a few feet away, a box of matches in his hands, as in front of him a circle of holy fire was burning on the ground. Inside the circle, Castiel stood still, glowering at the man who had tripped the angel trap, and Dean could tell his friend was royally pissed.

Next to Dean, Sam had likewise been rendered immobile. Angels needed no ropes to bind a body, they could do it all with their magical angel mojo. Unfortunately, it gave Dean nothing physical to fight. All he could do was stand there, his body frozen in place, and look at the smug, self-satisfied look on Zach's face. The arrogant son of a bitch had been waiting for this moment for a long time. It wasn't the first time that Dean had been within Zach's grip, but it was the first time he was in this position without an ace up his sleeve. Of the only people who could help him, Sam and Cas were unable to lift a finger—in Sam's case, literally—and Bobby Singer was sitting in his wheelchair five hundred miles away, oblivious to the peril his friends were now in.

Angels. Dean hated them. They claimed to be superior, they lived with holier-than-thou sticks up their collective asses, yet when it came right down to it, they lied and cheated and manipulated humans as expertly as any demon. Zach was the worst of them. Dean was sure it was Zach who had finally broken the fallen angel Anna, torturing her to the extent that she believed the only correct course of action was to travel back to 1978, to kill John and Mary Winchester before their sons could be born. Sam and Dean had followed her back to the past, but it had weakened Castiel to take them with him. The rebellious angel had only just recovered from the exhausting two-way trip, when the preacher had contacted Dean and begged to be protected in exchange for knowledge of the angels' plans.

"Dean Winchester," said Zachariah. He stepped forward, a horrible smile painted on the face of his middle-aged businessman vessel. Dean wished he could wipe that smile off the angel's face, but he knew he wouldn't be given the chance. He'd used the Enochian banishing sigil taught to him by Cas one too many times, and Zach wasn't going to give him the chance to do it again. "Good to see you again. You've given me quite the chase, these past couple of weeks."

"Zachariah," Dean growled, not even bothering to disguise the hatred in his voice. "I was just thinking I was overdue for my regular dose of pretentious asshole, and here you are. I'm surprised your masters extended your leash this far. They must have infinite patience, after all the times you've screwed up."

"Sinner!" the preacher accused, the word coming out as a guttural snarl. He pointed his finger at Dean, dropping the box of matches on the floor. "You would dare speak to a servant of the Lord in such a way! Were you not the true vessel of Michael, you would be smote down where you stand for such blasphemy!"

"Evangelists," said Zachariah, still wearing the smile. But he did not address the preacher, and kept his gaze solely on Dean. "They're a breed apart. So unquestioningly obedient. And apparently they make excellent bait for idiotic mud-monkeys like you and your brother."

"Bite me, you prick," Dean snapped, his anger growing once more. It wasn't just anger now, though. Fear was in there, too. He hated being weak, hated being helpless. It reminded him too much of his time in Hell, when he had been chained by the flesh of his body to a web of eternal pain and torture. "The answer is no. Michael's not getting my body. Ever. So why don't you just go crawling back to your master and tell him to shove his offer up his ass."

Zachariah shook his head, tutting. The smile was gone from his face now, but there was hatred in his eyes. "Dean, Dean. You should have learnt by now that when you fail to show the proper respect, it is those around you who are punished." The angel's head turned and he looked at Sam. Suddenly, Sam cried out, blood pouring from his nose. Dean could see his brother trying to double over in pain, to curl protectively into the foetal position, but Zachariah wouldn't let him. Sam was forced to stand upright, to bleed and endure whatever internal injury was being inflicted on him by Zach.

"Stop it, you son of a bitch," Dean shouted over Sam's agonised cries. "Stop it or so help me God, I'll—"

"You'll what?" Zach demanded, switching his focus once more back to Dean. "You'll glare at me sternly? Oh boy, I think you underestimate how screwed you are. You're mine, now. I'm going to take you back with me and strap you down until Michael's ready to take your pathetic meat-bag body and use it to destroy Lucifer." The angel took a step back, to survey all three of his captives. "Sam... now, Sam I think I will kill myself. Destroying Lucifer's vessel will earn me the praise I deserve for having to wade through the filth of this world just to find you. And Castiel..." Zach said, with a malicious smile for his angelic brother, "you have been a thorn in my side for too long. I only wish I could kill you myself. Unfortunately for you, Raphael has claimed that prize. He really doesn't like you. I'm told he's planning on a few years of agonising torture before he finally allows you to die."

"He already killed me once," Castiel said, without any of Dean's fear or anger in his voice. "What makes him think this time will be any different?"

"When he's done with you this time, there won't be enough of you left for anybody to bring back." Zach turned back to Sam, and raised his hand. "Say farewell to your brother, Dean."

"Zach, wait, no!" Dean shouted. "Please, no. Don't kill him. I'm begging you." Once upon a time, Dean had thought there was nothing in this world that would make him beg. Now, he knew better. He'd found a touch of humility, and he was more than prepared to beg for the life of his brother and his friends.

"I'm done with your pathetic pleading, boy," Zach spat angrily. "Say yes or say no, Sam's life is non-negotiable. Consider this your punishment, Dean, for your constant lack of respect, and for making me chase you all over this planet."

Zach turned to Sam, his hand reaching out towards the taller of the brothers. Sam gave another cry of pain, gasped for air.

"Please Zach, stop it!" Dean cried. Tears of anger and hopelessness spilled over his eyes as he watched the life being choked out of his little brother. "No! Please, no! Sam!"

"Zachariah!"

A new voice rang out high and clear through the warehouse, and Sam's cries of pain stopped. Zach turned on the spot, and Dean looked past him, at the figure standing behind the angel. He hadn't known what to expect, but he certainly hadn't been expecting this. It was a young woman who had spoken, and he shivered at her contradictory visage. She was short and slender, dressed in a forest-green knee-length dress with a yellow cat motif spattered across the green material. The sneakers she wore were white, fading to grey, and he could tell by the sun-kissed colour of her legs that she spent time outdoors. Her brown hair was styled in a pixie cut, and showed lighter brown highlights where it had been partially lightened by the touch of the sun. Eyes the same deep blue colour as cornflowers in bloom looked out from beneath dark, arched eyebrows, and her face was elfin in shape, her features fine and delicate.

That was where the girl-next-door appearance ended. Her cornflower-blue eyes were focused intensely on Zach. On both cheeks she bore symbols which he recognised as Enochian, carved into her flesh and fresh enough to still be bleeding. In her right hand she held a plain-looking longsword, the tip of it hovering just above the ground. Dean liked to think he had become good at recognising angels, and everything about this girl, from the way her eyes were focused to the way she was standing as if she wasn't comfortable in her own body, screamed 'angel' at him. But it always made him feel uneasy when angels did things with blood. It was something he had, since he was young, associated with demons and monsters. That angels also used blood for certain rituals and spells was something he had not expected, and he was still trying to wrap his head around the idea.

He could not see Zach's face, but judging by the way his body stiffened and by the tone of his voice when he next spoke, he knew the elder angel was both angry and surprised.

"Avariel," he hissed. "You cannot be here!"

"And yet here I am," the woman said, quiet confidence in her voice. "I've come to stop you, Zachariah."

Zach laughed, the sound as cold and cruel as the angel it came from. "You think to stop me, grigori? With what? A sword of metal that cannot even pierce the flesh of my vessel?" The woman did not respond. "Perhaps you aren't aware of this, but as we speak, your fellow rebels are being put down like the diseased beasts they are."

"I know," the woman replied. "And their deaths will not be in vain. The angels are occupied. You are alone here. I won't let you do this."

"You are nothing but an insignificant worm," Zach said. Dean risked a glance at Sam, and saw his brother standing upright once more. At least the blood had stopped dripping from his nose. "We should have destroyed all you grigori the last time you rebelled. I am not going to make that mistake again. I don't know how you managed to get here, or why you haven't been struck down yet, but I'm going to crush you beneath my foot, Avariel. Every angel in heaven will know that I not only killed Sam Winchester, but also destroyed utterly the leader of the rebellion." Zach turned to look at Dean once more. "Thank you, Dean. I'd expected you and your idiot brother to fall into my trap, and I'd hoped for Castiel too. But if I'd known that this would lead to the capture and execution of the rebel leader, I would have tried it long ago."

"Are you going to listen to the sound of your own voice all day, Zachariah?" the woman asked. She spread her arms wide. "I'm here. Take your best shot."

Zachariah moved like lightning, his hand shooting out in the direction of the woman. She flew backwards, hitting the far warehouse wall, and had he been able to move, Dean would have jumped at the suddenness of the violence. All he could do was watch as, to his shock and surprise, Zach flew backwards too, with as much force as he had thrown at the woman. As the elder angel was thrown back, Dean felt a momentary lessening of the invisible bindings holding him in place, but before he could act he was stuck once more, like a fly held fast in amber.

Beside him, Sam was looking as confused as Dean felt about this new twist of events. The treacherous preacher looked between Zach and his opponent, both of whom were picking themselves up off the floor where they had fallen, as did Castiel, from behind his circle of fire. A small trickle of blood ran down Zach's forehead, and when the woman stepped closer, Dean saw that her head was bleeding in the same place.

"Is that the best you can manage, Zachariah?" the woman said, ignoring the blood that dripped down from over her eyebrow onto the floor. "You must be getting weak in your old age. No wonder you haven't managed to keep hold of two humans, despite having them in your grasp several times."

Zach let out a wordless snarl of anger, and leapt towards the woman. He struck now not with his telekinesis, but with his fists. Those same fists could punch through a wall of solid concrete, and they sent the woman staggering back. Immediately, Zach staggered backwards too, and a cut appeared across his cheek, in the same place where he had struck the woman on her face. Now, Dean had a good view of both angels. They were side-on in front of him, and he could see the look of surprise and a lack of understanding on Zach's face. It was a satisfying thing to see.

Now, the woman moved. She brought the sword up expertly in a small arch, slashing at Zach's arm. The material of his suit split, and a second later a line of red appeared, running down the angel's arm and onto the floor. Zach looked down at the cut on his arm in confusion. The sword that should not have been able to pierce his flesh had done exactly that.

"Surprise," the woman said, holding up the sword before her to display a coating of blood dripping down its tip.

Confusion was not the only expression on Zach's face, now. There was fear there, and it was genuine. Dean knew how he must be feeling. No weapon except an angel's blade could harm another angel, and the plain longsword wielded by the angel inhabiting the body of the woman was clearly not an angel blade.

Zach struck again; his hand closed into a fist, and the woman grasped at her neck, trying to free herself from something which was trying to crush her throat. Dean wasn't surprised when Zach also grasped at his own throat, and seemed to be having just as much difficulty breathing as the woman, but he was gratified to see it. He'd already figured out that, for some reason, whatever Zach did to the woman also happened to him, but it seemed as if Zach thought he could choke the life out of his opponent before he succumbed to that same deadly force.

The angels were at an impasse. The tighter Zach choked the woman, the harder he was choked in return. Both angels were desperately trying to gasp for air, and Dean took the opportunity to try and free himself. He struggled again against the force which bound him, and felt it flex a little before tightening once more. He got the impression that Zach was splitting his concentration, using some of his focus to hold the Winchesters in place, and the rest to battle his opponent. Perhaps if he and Sam could distract Zach, the other angel would get a chance to strike again.

"Sam!" Dean said. "Fight it!"

Sam nodded and began to struggle against his bonds, too. In the background, the preacher was still watching, in awe and fear, at the two angels who were apparently fighting to the death. Castiel was likewise focused on the battle, and Dean judged him to be perplexed. He always frowned when he was perplexed.

The force binding Dean suddenly tightened, and he looked back to the angels to find them breathing again, gasping the air into their lungs. It seemed Zach had decided choking his victim wouldn't work, so he went back to physical violence, raining down a series of blows on the woman's body, each one of them like hammer-strikes. Seven, eight, nine hits Dean counted, and the woman now bleeding in more places. But so was Zach, every wound on her body duplicated on his.

The woman took a step back and closed her eyes. Black clouds began to form in the air several feet above her head, and they spread out, filling the upper area of the warehouse. A quiet rumble began to grow, and cold, heavy drops of water fell from the clouds. Rain poured indoors, a deluge of it, soaking Dean from head to toe. He narrowed his eyes, squinting at the two figures standing before him. Without warning, a brilliant flash of light whipped down from the clouds, and struck the ground barely a metre away from Zach's feet.

The elder angel sneered. "You missed me."

The woman opened her eyes and gave him a cold smile. "I wasn't aiming for you."

That was when the acrid stench of burnt flesh reached Dean's nose. He turned his head, and saw the smoking black corpse of the preacher. The man's dead body had fallen into Castiel's circle, providing a bridge out of the fire. Dean felt his hope grow as his friend stepped onto the body and walked safely out of the angel's trap, his cold blue eyes fixed now on Zach.

It proved to be enough for Zach. The angel disappeared, teleporting to some other place on Earth, or back to Heaven. Dean didn't know which, nor did he care. He could finally move again, and he rushed to his brother's side, helping him to stand upright. Sam was obviously in pain, his brown eyes troubled, but he was alive, and that was all that mattered. The Winchesters made their way to Castiel, none the worse for his brief period inside the circle of deadly fire. Suddenly, the rain stopped. The black clouds dissipated, and there was a thump and a clatter of metal as the woman collapsed onto the ground.

Together, the three men approached the still, bleeding form of the woman. Sam knelt down to check her pulse, then stood up. "Still alive."

"This a friend of yours, Cas?" Dean asked his angelic companion.

"No," Castiel said, his eyes flickering over the girl's body. "I have never met this angel before."

"What should we do with her?"

"Kill it."

Castiel's voice was cold and emotionless. Once more, it chilled Dean to realise just how ruthless his friend truly could be. Sam, of course, objected immediately. Despite everything he had been through, everything he had done and had done to him, the youngest Winchester still wanted to believe the best in people.

"Cas, she just saved our lives. We can't kill her in cold blood."

"Human blood is not cold," said Castiel. Dean would have smirked, were it not for the severity of their situation. Clichés were usually lost on Cas. "Nor is this angel a 'she'. It is a grigori."

"That's what Zach called her, too," said Sam, ignoring the angel's penultimate sentence. "What's a grigori?"

"They are called 'The Eyes of Heaven', or more simply, 'The Watchers'. God created them to watch humanity. They are stronger and more versatile than cherubs, but lack the strength of full angels." There was a touch of something, perhaps awe, perhaps suspicion, in Castiel's voice. "No grigori is strong enough to defeat a seraphim, like Zachariah. It should not even be here, on Earth, possessing a vessel."

"Well, it is here," said Dean, speaking up for the first time. "And it seems that, for some reason, she is strong enough to defeat a seraphim, or at least chase one away. Which might possibly make her a valuable ally. All the more reason to take her with us, right?"

Castiel turned to face him, stepping into Dean's personal space. The angel was getting better at understanding what 'personal space' meant, but he still invaded it whenever he was trying to get an important point across.

"Dean, the grigori are not to be trusted completely, not even in Heaven. And if this one truly has fallen, then it will be dangerous. Fallen grigori have a tendency to be very, very vicious."

"Then we'll stick her in an angel trap and question her."

"This could be a trap," Cas countered. "She may lead the angels to wherever we take her."

"Cas, we were already in a trap. Zach had us right where he wanted us. He was about to toast Sam. This grigori or whatever... she saved Sam's life. She saved me from becoming Michael's bitch, and saved you from becoming Raphael's new play-thing. I say we at least take her with us and question her, if only to find out how she located us. I didn't think angels were supposed to be able to find us. Or has the Enochian novel you carved onto our rib-cages stopped working?"

Castiel did not object further, but Dean could tell he wasn't happy. He was probably going to sulk and brood until he got his own way, but Dean didn't care. Angels had hounded his footsteps ever since Cas had hauled him out of the Pit. They were worse than the damn hell-hounds that had dragged him into Hell in the first place. At least hounds only wanted to rip your body to shreds. Angels played head-games. They got inside your dreams and sent you back in time, they tested you and put you through trials by fire, and claimed they were working on the side of good. It was all bullshit.

"Please take us back to Bobby's, Cas," said Dean. "He can help us figure this mess out."

"I will take us to Bobby's," Cas agreed. "But this is a terrible mistake."

Dean did not get chance to reply. Cas lifted his hand, touching two fingers to Dean's forehead, and the warehouse disappeared.

o - o - o - o - o

Bobby Singer sat staring at the cold, metallic object on the desk in front of him. It was a daily ritual. Every morning, he'd wheel himself out of his bedroom, come in here, and look at the gun. It wasn't loaded. Not yet. A single bullet sat beside it. A single bullet was all it would take. The last few months in the wheelchair had been his own private Hell. He could end it. One bullet. A pull of the trigger. Maybe one last game of Russian Roulette.

So far, he had resisted. Not only because he was an excellent hunter, and his survival instincts were still alive and kicking, but because he had promised Dean that he wouldn't. The boy—though in truth, he was a man now, and had been for many years—had already lost enough. His mother had been killed by a demon when Dean was barely five years old. His father had sold his soul to save Dean's life, and then Dean had done likewise for Sam. The boys had no home to speak of, and the only family they had was each other. And him, of course.

"Bobby!"

Dean's shout made Bobby jump. He wasn't the easily scared type, but he hadn't been expecting the boys back so soon. The fact that the voice had materialised from the cellar meant that Castiel had transported them right there. And judging by the urgency that Dean had managed to convey in his single shouted word, Bobby guessed that things hadn't gone well. He'd told them it was a trap. Bloody idjits.

Quickly, he slid the gun and bullet back into the desk drawer, and re-angled the baseball cap that had been his constant companion for as long as he could remember. He wheeled himself around to the front of the desk just as Dean came bounding into the room. The boy's clothes were dripping wet, and there was blood on his hands.

"Dean?" he asked, trying to look into the young man's eyes. "What the hell happened?"

"Long story," Dean said. "I need the holy oil that Cas picked up last time he was in Jerusalem. Where is it?"

Bobby nodded at one of the cabinets next to the old fireplace. "Second door up on the left, behind the first aid kit."

He watched as Dean all but ran to the cupboard and began pulling items out, until he got to the first aid kit. Bobby's first aid kit wasn't like a standard first aid kit. In addition to bandages, sterilising gel and slings, it held a set of rosary beads, a small revolver with both iron and silver rounds, a jar of salt, a small bottle of holy water, and a larger bottle of whisky in case of real emergencies. Dean knew better than to handle the kit roughly, so he placed it on the desk and reached back into the cupboard for what he had come for. The plain clay urn was nothing special to look at, but it was what the urn contained which made it unique.

"Care to tell me what's going on?" Bobby asked him.

"You gotta see this for yourself," replied Dean. His hazel eyes were troubled, but he didn't stick around for an explanation.

As Dean left the room, Bobby wheeled himself after the boy as fast as he was able. Towards the stairs they went, with Bobby letting his chair roll down the ramp that had been installed to give him access to the basement. Through the cellar and towards the solid iron panic-room, then through the door, where Bobby brought his chair to a complete halt. There was a girl in the middle of the room, bleeding from a dozen places, her dress covered in dark red patches. Her face was likewise red, and he saw symbols on her skin. Very familiar symbols.

Sam was sitting on one of the bunks, biting one of his nails as he watched the girl. Castiel was merely standing over her, as if he just expected her to get up and start attacking them all. Bobby didn't know whether to be laugh or horrified. He wheeled himself closer to the scene of random chaos in the sanctity of his panic-room.

"Tell me you did not carve Enochian sigils into that girl's face," he growled at the two men and the angel.

Castiel looked up at him. "This is no girl, and we did no carving. Dean... the oil?"

Bobby watched as Dean handed the jar over to Castiel, who immediately removed the stopper and began pouring the oil in a circle around the girl's body. On the bunk, Sam took a deep breath.

"Cas, are you really sure this is necessary?" the youngest Winchester asked.

"Very."

"Sam? Dean? What the hell is going on?" Bobby demanded.

Neither of the boys replied, at first. It was only when the circle of holy oil had been completed, and Dean had ignited it with his lighter, that the brothers turned to face him. Castiel didn't even bother. He just kept watching the girl. Didn't even blink.

"Bobby, it was a trap," said Dean.

"Of course it was a trap, ya idjits," he replied. "I told you that before you left. More than once, you might remember."

"We knew it was a risk, but it was one we had to take. In case you've forgotten, we are running short of ideas."

"Don't take that tone with me, son," Bobby warned. "Every time you two go off, I get to sit here worrying about which of you is coming back dead and which is coming back with a time limit on his soul."

"Bobby, we're sorry," Sam said, ever the peace-maker. "We should have listened to you. We should have been more prepared. We were just..."

"Desperate," Bobby finished for him. He knew just how they felt. With Sam fated to become Lucifer's vessel, and Dean marked as Michael's, the future was not looking bright. "Just tell me what happened."

"Zachariah was waiting for us," said Dean. He shrugged his shoulders. "Bastard must have been desperate, because he was acting through one of those crazy preachers. Damn near human, with his plotting."

"How close did he come to... you know?" he asked, taking in the damp appearance of all three men, plus the outline of blood on Sam's upper lip that could only have been left by a nose-bleed.

Dean shook his head. "He trapped Cas and got the jump on me and Sam. Probably would have ended right there and then, if it wasn't for this... what'd you call her, Cas?" he called to the watching angel.

"Grigori," Cas replied, without looking around.

"Yeah," Dean continued. "So she popped up out of nowhere, told Zachariah she was going to stop him, and saved all of us in the process."

"So... she's an angel?" Bobby asked. There would be no other reason for the boys to be using the holy fire, but angels tended to get pissed off when you trapped them like that. The last thing he wanted was a pissed off angel trashing his panic-room.

"Cas says they're somewhere between cherubs and angels on the power side of the scale, and that they're called 'The Eyes of Heaven'."

"Oh, so you just decided to bring the damn Eyes of Heaven into my safe-house?" he asked, surprised that the boys would be so reckless.

"Well... sorta," Sam said, with a guilty smile. "We just thought it would be best to bring her somewhere safe. For... you know... questioning."

"Questioning? What in God's name do you want to ask the damn thing that Cas couldn't answer you?" he demanded.

"Well, for starters, how she was able to find us," Sam replied. "We were supposed to be hidden. Even Zachariah didn't know where we were. That's why he had to lure us to him using the preacher as bait."

"Also, how come she was able to send Zach running scared," Dean added. "Cas says these grigori aren't supposed to be this powerful. I'm just thinking... well, maybe somebody's giving her a bit of extra juice. Someone important, y'know?"

Bobby shook his head. That Dean, of all people, was willing to entertain the notion that an angel had been super-charged by God and sent to save him from Zachariah was a sign of how desperate the situation was becoming.

"Dean," said Castiel, a note of warning in his voice. Dean and Sam parted, and Bobby rolled forwards, and all three of them looked to the circle of fire. The girl was standing, now, dead in the centre of the fiery ring. Her eyes were the most vivid deep blue he had ever seen, and to him, it seemed that a halo of soft light surrounded her. Probably just a trick of the fire.

"Dean and Sam Winchester," the girl said, looking from brother to brother. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" She gave a quiet chuckle and smiled, though the smile stopped at her lips. "Sorry. Just a little grigori humour." She glanced around at the circle of fire, and seemed unconcerned by it. "It is good to finally see you in person, as it were. The view is a little less... clouded... from this angle."

Dean stepped forward, though he was still a few feet away from the fire. Bobby couldn't blame him. Angels had, largely, proven themselves to be only marginally more trustworthy than demons.

"You seem to know about us," he said. "Care to tell us who you are?"

"We've already done the introductions," she replied, fixing her eyes on Dean's face, as if trying to memorise it.

"The hell we have," he replied, and Bobby shook his head. Dean gave angels the same amount of respect he gave everyone else. In fact, he gave most angels less respect. This was not going to end well for the panic-room.

"Then perhaps you should ask my brother who I am."

Bobby looked towards Cas, as did Sam and Dean. The angel took the statement in his stride.

"This is Avariel," he replied.

"What?" asked Dean. "I thought you said you didn't know her?"

"That is true. But Avariel is the name Zachariah called it by."

The girl, or angel, whatever she was... Avariel, clapped her hands several times. "Well done. With powers of observation like that, you could be a Watcher yourself."

This was, apparently, an insult. The angel-blade that Cas had taken from the traitorous angel Uriel slipped into his hand, extended to its full length. Sam looked shocked by its sudden appearance, and Dean quickly stepped forward, filling some of the gap between Cas and the ring of fire. Not that Castiel could have attacked the girl; to pass through holy fire meant death for an angel, and it didn't matter which way the circle was facing.

"Whoa, Cas, calm down," said Dean. "Take a time-out or something, if you have to."

"Oh, don't mind him," Avariel said. "He's just being cautious. I would be too, in his position. After all, gregori don't exactly have a sterling reputation in Heaven. And you boys have first-hand experience of how nasty a fallen gregori can be."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean demanded, turning to face the trapped girl.

She smiled. "Ahh... that's right. You're not familiar with that particular story." She turned her gaze to Cas. "What do you say, uncle Castiel? Will you tell the boys a bedtime story? Or should I?"

"I am going to kill you," said Cas, his voice cold.

Avariel shrugged. "Step inside my circle and give it a try, if you like. I don't bite."

Bobby had reached the end of his patience. He was fed up of never getting the answers he wanted as fast as he wanted them. Of being left behind. Of sitting to one side and trying to smooth ruffled feathers. It was bad enough when Sam and Dean were at each other's throats every other week, like it was their damn time of their month or something. He'd be damned if he was going to sit back and watch a pair of angels start scrapping in the only safe place he owned.

He wheeled his chair forwards, pushing Dean aside. "That's enough. All of you. I've had it up to here with you dragging somebody or something back into this room every five goddamn minutes, and acting like you own the place. In case you've forgotten, this is my house. You're all my guests. Now, I think I'm entitled to some answers to my questions. Or you can all conduct this little interrogation on somebody else's turf."

"Answers?" Avariel said. "I have plenty of answers. Ask me anything you like."

"What is this?" Castiel said before Bobby could even think of asking a question. He was holding up what appeared to be a steel longsword.

"Anything except that," the girl replied.

Sam stepped forward. "Listen... Avariel?" She nodded in response. "We're all very grateful to you for rescuing us from Zachariah." Bobby looked at the scowling face of Castiel, and the skeptical face of Dean, and doubted that Sam spoke for all of them. "But we have to know... why did you do it?"

"I thought that much would be obvious," the woman replied. "I wish to end the apocalypse before it can truly begin."

"I thought all angels wanted the apocalypse to happen?" Dean said. "You know, bring about the final battle? Peace and paradise on Earth, and all that."

"Opinion is... divided," she said evasively. "Many angels believe that the apocalypse is God's will. That this is the final test. Those of us who aren't morons, however, can see how much damage this war is doing to the Earth."

"Zachariah called you a rebel leader," said Sam. "Is that what you were rebelling against?"

"Mostly," she shrugged.

"What does that mean?" Bobby asked her.

"That is a very long story."

"And speaking of long stories," said Dean, "what were you saying about us knowing now nasty fallen grigori can get? We've never met one of your kind before."

Avariel glanced to Cas. "Do you want to tell them the story, brother, or should I? By your mouth or mine, they will hear the truth."

Castiel sighed defeatedly, and did not look pleased. But he did comply.

"Azazel was a grigori."

The girl lifted her arms up in exasperation. "You missed out the entire story!"

"What?" Dean asked, turning now to Cas with a look of confusion and anger. "The son of a bitch who started all of this, who stood over Sam's crib and poured demon blood into his mouth, was a damn angel?"

"There's a story behind it," Avariel said, though her words were unheard by all but Bobby. The air in the panic-room had suddenly become charged with tension. He almost got a static shock from it.

"When the hell were you going to tell us, Cas?" Dean demanded.

"I was not," Castiel replied. "It was deemed... unnecessary for you to know that. By the time I pulled you from Hell, Azazel was already dead. Besides, there is only one fallen angel you need to be concerned about. Lucifer. Not Azazel."

"I want to hear it," Sam said, ignoring Dean and Cas. He had stepped closer to the circle of fire, and was addressing Avariel. A frightening look haunted his brown eyes. Of course, this revelation was cutting him to the quick. Azazel had killed pretty much all of Sam's family. The yellow-eyed demon was the reason Sam had felt compelled to return to hunting, and the reason why all of this was happening. "Tell me the story."

"Sam," said Castiel. "You cannot trust what this grigori says. They are not reliable. And if it has fallen, it is dangerous. It should not even be here."

"You said that before," Dean said. "What do you mean, exactly?"

"It's part of the story," Avariel said. She aimed an icy glare at Castiel. "You're ruining it."

"It was decreed, long ago," said Cas, "that grigori shall not be allowed to take man as a vessel. Any grigori who tries such a thing is instantly destroyed. That this one has managed it means that it must have powerful protection. Such protection can only come from an arch-angel, and no arch-angel in heaven would shelter a criminal such as this. That means Lucifer."

"Or maybe it just means you're a moron," Avariel said. She seemed to be deriving some sort of pleasure from insulting the angel from behind her barrier of fire. It made Bobby wonder if she even thought of herself as a prisoner at all. "I quote verbatim, 'And from this moment henceforth, any grigori who takes man as a vessel shall be smote down by the power of heaven and destroyed utterly'. Does that sound familiar?"

"That is what I already said," Castiel replied. He looked perplexed. He always frowned like that when he was perplexed.

"So did you go blind the moment you strapped yourself into your vessel, brother, or are you merely dense?" For a moment, Bobby thought Cas really would try to strike at Avariel through the circle of fire. But when he did not reply, or act, the girl gestured at herself. "I took no man as my vessel. One hundred-percent loophole-friendly woman, here. Good for me that our big brothers are sexist idiots who really need to know how to write proper decrees."

"Wait a minute," Bobby said, rolling a little closer to the fire. Odd, how it burnt with no warmth at all. "Are you telling me that your kind of angels are banned from taking men as vessels, but not women?"

Avariel shrugged. "Not exactly. It's a small technicality. Had the arch-angels used the word 'mankind' or 'humans' in place of 'man', I'd be screwed right now, as would the rest of you. Luckily, I pay attention to the details."

"But... why?" Dean asked. "I mean, why do they ban grigori from taking vessels, when other angels get to screw around with whole damn bloodlines?"

"Glad you asked," she said. "Let me tell you a story..."

"What is it with you and stories?"

"I've never told one before," she said. "So shut up and listen, and maybe, in time, you'll learn to ask the right questions." When Avariel spoke again, her voice had taken on a new tone, almost like that of a teacher recounting a tale to the children of her class. "Once upon a time, in the magical kingdom of Heaven, God created the angels, and they were all beautiful and perfect and never questioned anything God said. But then, one day, God created humans, and placed them on the Earth, and told the angels to love humans more than they loved him, to bow down before humanity and praise God's new creation. One angel, who was a very naughty boy, didn't think his father's rule fair, so he started to rebel. To show his father how flawed the humans were, he took one and corrupted the soul, so that it became the first demon."

"Lilith," Sam scowled. There was an anger in his eyes, a fire which was not a reflection of the burning holy oil.

"Glad you're keeping up. So, God was, as you can imagine, not very pleased with Lucifer. He banished his most beloved son to Earth, cutting him off from heaven, and his family. But don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to say I sympathise with Lucifer. He was the biggest idiot of them all. Anyway, God was concerned for his new pets. He created the grigori, and gave us the task of watching over humanity. And watch we did. But there's a funny thing about gazing into the abyss... sometimes it gazes back. And that's what happened. A few of the grigori—"

"Two hundred of them," Castiel corrected, speaking for the first time since Avariel had insulted him.

"Fine, two hundred of them, saw the humans and became envious. They became particularly attracted to the beauty of human women, and they started to inhabit vessels, so that they could eat, drink, and fornicate. It was all harmless fun to begin with... or I'm sure that's what they all thought at the time. But through the union of such couplings were born the Nephilim, known at the time as 'the offspring of the sons of God, and the daughters of men'."

"Unholy abominations," Cas growled.

"Yes, yes," Avariel continued. "And they were all very rightfully wiped out. And when I say wiped out, I man biblically. The 'sins' that God wanted to wash away with that whole Noah flood thing? Nephilim. After the flood was finished, and all of the abominations had been destroyed, it was decreed that no grigori should ever be allowed to take man as a vessel again, because nobody, and I mean nobody, wants to see the Nephilim return."

"What does this have to do with Azazel?" Sam asked.

"Really? It's not obvious?" Avariel said, looking surprised. "I thought I'd implied it rather well. You see, Azazel was one of the chief grigori, before he developed a taste for eating, drinking and fornicating. Of course, the angels needed to make an example out of somebody. All of the grigori who had taken part in the two-hundred-year hedonistic orgy were cast out from Heaven, banished to Earth, forced to wander in their vessels. Many of them became mortal and died. But a few were picked up by Lucifer, who was finding the corruption of human souls to be less and less of a challenge every day. So, of course, he decided to corrupt a few angels, too. Before he was caged in the pit of Hell by Michael, he managed to turn a few angels into demons, though nobody in Heaven knows how he did it. That's why Azazel was even more of a sadistic son of a bitch than most other demons; because he had once resided in Heaven, and he remembered what he had lost when he was banished. He became determined to punish angels for what he perceived to be a crime against him and his traitorous kin. This, of course, really sucked for the rest of us. None of the other reindeer let us join in all their reindeer games, after that."

"My heart bleeds," said Dean dryly.

Bobby shook his head. He didn't want the angel antagonised, because as she had been speaking, a thought had blossomed in his mind. Avariel couldn't stay caged in his basement forever. Sooner or later, the boys would either have to let her out, or kill her. And if he could get something out of her being free, it was an opportunity he had to take. He wheeled his chair closer to the fire.

"Avariel," he said. "I want to ask you something."

"Shoot," she said.

"If we were to trust you, and let you out of that circle..." He held up his hand to stall the objections from the other three in the room, "would you be able to heal my legs? Could you make it so that I can walk again?"

Avariel looked at him thoughtfully, tapping her chin with her finger. Then she shook her head.

"I don't want to come out of this circle."

"You want to be a prisoner?" Dean asked in disbelief.

"Are you kidding? I just kicked seraphim ass. I mean, did you see me? That was probably the most awesome thing ever. Do you know how difficult it is, for a grigori to go up against something like that? I fully expected to die in the attempt, so I'm thrilled that I made it. But now, Zachariah is going to be the most pissed off son of a bitch in Heaven. Holy fire might be keeping me in, but it's also keeping him out."

"She's lying," Castiel accused.

"Hey!" She pointed her finger at him and scowled. "Lying by omission is not lying."

"Cas?" Sam asked. "What do you mean?"

"Even if she wanted to come out of the circle, she would not be able to heal you, Bobby. They have cut her off from Heaven."

Avariel shrugged, as if it was of no consequence. "Well, yes. I'm sure the first thing Zachariah did when he got back to Heaven was slap a celestial restraining order on my angelic self."

Sam shook his head. "Are you sure she's an angel, Cas? She doesn't sound much like an angel."

"What, you think angels come in 'one size fits all'?" the girl scoffed. "Hello? Eyes of Heaven? I've spent the past few thousand years watching humans. I was there to watch the raising of stonehenge, and to witness the building of the great pyramids of Egypt. I've seen cultures rise and fall. I've seen Queen live in concert, and watched all of the Star Wars films, though episodes one to three were just dire. I understand your popular culture references. I can walk the walk and talk the talk. Honestly. Ask me about anything except reality TV programmes. Those things will rot a brain, human or angel."

"Episodes four to six," said Dean. "Which was your favourite?"

Bobby shook his head as Avariel replied.

"The Empire Strikes Back, of course."

"Ah-ha! No decent angel would enjoy witnessing evil triumph over good," Dean accused.

"Really? Because I thought that it was when times are darkest, that the light burns brightest." She shrugged. "Besides, Return of the Jedi had Ewoks. I can't forgive that."

"Amen, sister." Dean suddenly realised that everyone was staring at him, and he cleared his throat before pointing sternly at Avariel. "I mean... bad angel. You'll stay in that circle of fire until we're ready to deal with you."

"There is one thing I want to know," said Cas to the caged woman. "How is it that a tiny little grigori like you managed to get the better of a powerful seraphim like Zachariah?"

"Little?" she hissed angrily, her blue eyes glowing in the firelight. "Perhaps I'm not as powerless as you seem to think, Castiel. I broke you out of your trap, didn't I? I sent Zachariah fleeing back to Heaven, didn't I? If I am of such little concern, why have you caged me in a circle of holy fire? Believe I'm your prisoner all you want. Right now, I am exactly where I want to be. And when I want to get out of this circle, I will get out of this circle. At that time, if you wish to attempt to succeed where Zachariah failed, be my guest. We'll see who's left standing, at the end."

Bobby felt like swearing. He didn't, because he couldn't come up with something adequate enough, but he felt like doing it anyway. He'd had an easy life, once. Sure, it was full of danger and weirdness, but it had otherwise been quiet. Almost peaceful. He hadn't realised it at the time, of course, but now he sometimes missed those old, dangerous, weird, quiet times. For a start, there hadn't been any drama. He'd take a job, kill something, save the civilians, come home, and drink. Sometimes he worked with other hunters, sometimes he flew solo. The work had been steadier, and generally not surprising in any way.

Then, something terrible had happened. John Winchester had died, leaving Bobby to step into the role of father figure to the already grown Winchester boys. And though Bobby loved them both dearly, and considered them his closest family despite their lack of blood ties, they had a habit of dragging all of their melodramatic crap into his life. When they weren't constantly at each others' throats, they spent their time hauling any number of demonic or angelic individuals to his home. It wasn't their fault, of course. Sam had more devils on his shoulder than anybody Bobby had ever met, and ever since Cas had hauled Dean out of Hell, the angels had taken a very active interest in the eldest Winchester boy. He just wished that, sometimes, they could learn to handle their own problems. He wasn't going to be around forever, God knew it, and if they didn't learn how to cope without him before that time, they were really going to struggle.

The angel inside the circle of fire suddenly coughed, spitting blood onto the floor. It was then Bobby noticed for the first time that the floor inside the circle was glistening, red liquid pooling inside it. He'd been so preoccupied with the situation that he hadn't realised how badly injured the girl truly was. Sam saw it too, and stepped forward.

"Hey, are you okay?" the boy asked.

"I just let Zachariah kick the crap out of me," Avariel said, glowering. She was almost bent double with pain. "Next time, why don't we let you do that, and then you tell me if you're 'okay' afterwards?"

"Can't you just... you know... heal yourself?"

Avariel shook her head. "I didn't get chance for the standard days-long preparation a vessel should ideally have. I had to use the express check-out lane in the vessel supermarket, you might say. As soon as I realised Zachariah had you in his grasp, I descended to Earth and gave my vessel a five minute ultimatum. This body was unprepared, and has sustained more damage than I can handle."

"So what, you're just going to die?" Dean asked, a scornful tone in his voice. "That's quitter talk."

"Die?" The woman gave a humourless smile. "An interesting concept. Maybe I'll die. I do plan to try everything here at least once, and that includes death. But right now, I'm going to lie down on the floor and go comatose before I collapse onto the very unhealthy walls of my prison. Okay?"

"Uh... okay."

The girl didn't even wait for Dean to answer. She merely sank onto the floor and curled her limbs in towards her body, as far away from the circle of holy fire as possible. A few seconds later, she was silent, still.

"Is she..?" Sam asked, letting the question trail off.

"No," said Cas, turning to face Bobby and the Winchesters at last. "It probably will die, though. But, just on the off chance that it doesn't die, and you deem it necessary to continue the questioning, try to use its pride against it. Make it angry. That seems to work."

Bobby sighed. Making an angel angry was a plan only another dumb-ass angel would come up with. Of course, he didn't say that out loud. He had slightly more respect—and a slightly healthier survival instinct—than Dean.

"You're not staying, Cas?" Dean asked.

"No, I have things to do." Castiel looked to, or through, one of the walls of the panic room. "But I must caution you. Do not, under any circumstances, free the grigori from the circle. You should not trust what it says, either."

A breeze blew through the room, and Castiel was gone.

"Yeah," said Dean. "Pleasure as always." The eldest Winchester glanced at the unmoving form of the woman. "Do you think we're making a mistake, Bobby?"

"I don't know, son," he replied, genuinely concerned for the welfare of his charges. "We've known for a while now that you two are smack bang in the middle of a war between angels and demons. Now we know that you've also, somehow, gotten mixed up in a war between angels and angels. I don't think that changes anything, but it sure doesn't make me feel any safer."

"This rebellion that Avariel is leading—" Sam began. But Dean interrupted him.

"Was leading. You heard what Zach said, right? Whilst she was down here kicking that smug son of a bitch's ass, team arch-angel were up there killing off God only knows how many of her people. For all we know, she is the last of the rebellion. If you ask me, this could be an opportunity."

"How do you mean?" Sam asked his older brother.

"I'm willing to bet that the angels have put a high price on her head. And if Cas doesn't trust her, then I don't trust her. She may have saved our lives, but as we've seen, countless times, angels are more than happy to use us as their chess pieces. Maybe we shouldn't give this one the chance."

"You mean... hand her over to Michael?" Sam asked. He sounded worried, and looked worried.

"I'm just trying to keep our options open."

"You can't be serious. What do you think the angels will give you for turning her over? Do you think they'll just let you go? You're Michael's vessel, Dean. And even if they promised you the world... would you believe a word out of their mouths?"

Dean rubbed a hand over his face, a clear indication of how tired he was. "I dunno, Sammy. I just... I'm just so fed up with this. All of it. Angels, demons... I don't know who's on our side anymore, and who's just yanking our chains. You and Bobby are the only family I have left. The only people I can count on."

"Boy, you need to sleep," Bobby told Dean.

"Yeah. I know. And I think I'll go do that."

He watched the eldest Winchester leave the room, and heard him trudge up the stairs. Sam stayed a moment longer, watching the comatose angel, then he left too. Bobby sighed at the sight of the bloody girl. It would be easier, more convenient, if she just died. But, as a rule, 'easy' and 'convenient' were not things that happened to Bobby Singer. Shaking his head at how screwed up this situation was, he left the panic room in favour of a bottle of whisky.

- o -

Author's Note: I'm not big on author notes, so I'll keep this short and sweet. Thanks for reading chapter 1. I hope you've enjoyed it. If you're sticking around for further chapters, I'll take this moment to explain how the rest of the story is going to work. The title of the story is 'Fallen', and the story is made up of many 'books' (the first of which is titled 'Angels, Angels, Everywhere'), which in turn are made up of chapters of varying lengths. This particular book has six chapters, the next has four, the one after that is back to six, etc.

This story will be updated every Friday, to give readers a chance to catch up over the weekend.