In heaven, angels do not talk to one another. They have their own language, enochian, but surrounded by the host there is no need for words. With a thought, an outward extension of feeling or intent, an angel can make known his plans to all the others connected as they are through the host.

It is during a battle, one of the many between heaven and hell, when the angels are resorting to words; directing each angel as an individual and not as a whole as is so often done in times of peace. Michael, surrounded by the warriors of heaven, speaks with his brothers on what their next move should be.

The devil and his demons are gaining ground in the neutral zone of creation. There is not much time for planning; a decision needs to be made quickly. White wings flutter as those not in Michael's immediate ring wait for their orders, as close to fidgeting as their endless calm will allow.

"Brother," Gabriel moves forward, catching Michael's attention, "what of Castiel?"

Michael nods, dismissing his brother to get the other angel. Gabriel moves out of the cluster of clouds with all the speed and grace expected of Heaven's messenger to the spot where Castiel will be.

The heavenly Host has need for Castiel, and thus Castiel comes into being.

And so Castiel was created, in the midst of war as an instrument to its end. A warrior from his first moment of existence.

Gabriel paid no heed to the color of Castiel's wings as he led him to Michael. It did not matter that they were the color of their enemies, Castiel was a product of Heaven, of God and the Holy Spirit, and thus was loved with the unthinking instinct by the other angels as he would love them.

Michael motions the new angel closer, not bothering to look up from the events unfolding on a battlefield so far away, yet so close. Michael shares with all the angels around him their circumstances with a thought, filling in Castiel as he takes his place to Michael's right and reminding the others of their position.

Castiel looks at the battlefield below, looks at the dying angels and bloody demons. He sees the souls of humans lost in the fray. He feels the pain of every angel, every hurt, every breath, every death, as do all his brothers.

He sees all this, this death and pain, and decides how to kill more.

He sees all this, this death and pain, and the way is clear. He sees how to kill them all.

The battle is bloody, as all battles are. Michael is commanding the garrisons, consolidating power in this time of war, sending angels off to fight. And fight they do, fighting for their Father. Fighting for the love they have for all things, even if that love is accepted as being, never looked for, never confirmed.

Michael follows Castiel's strategy with precision, and they are winning. The devil's forces are falling back. They cringe as the light of heaven beats them away with holy fire. Castiel's light burns brightest, he is the newest angel, and always it is their purity that eclipses all others, even in the face of an archangel, even with wings as black as his enemies' souls.

Castiel is fighting. He uses his sword of grace and hope and love to kill his enemies. Their blood stains his grace, hope, and love as each one's life flickers to an everlasting end. His eyes are cold to the carnage in front of him, he sees only darkness that needs to be vanquished; he was created for this. He is a warrior of the lord, his life is for the service of the lord, be that committing the highest sin or not.

Castiel's existence started the moment the Host had need of his mind and his sword. His life started much later. With a being who could only speak with imprecise words and drenched in the sins of mortality.

But wasn't Castiel already a sinner? He had killed thousands upon thousands. Demons as they are, a life is a life. Castiel knew where he was going when he ended. If not snuffed out of existence entirely, he would go to hell. He would pay for his sins, of which there were many.

Perhaps his greatest sin wasn't killing, though, perhaps it was falling for the man who both ended his life, and began it.

Okay! This was going to go into the Book of Castiel but it doesn't fit anymore. I didn't want to scrap it entirely, so here it is, an alternate way on how Castiel came to be, with a little bit of Destiel thrown in on the end because I can never seem to avoid it haha.

hate it? detest it? wish for its untimely demise? do tell!