Ours Not To Reason Why

[thursdays_angel]

When Dean Winchester was taken by Hell it seemed to Castiel that, for a long moment, the entire Garrison held its collective breath. Before orders started raining down from above, and angels began to move with a kind of purpose they hadn't had in thousands of years.

At Castiel’s level, not many details were being shared. But the big picture was no secret.

Heaven was preparing to wage war on Hell.

Some of Castiel’s brothers and sisters wanted nothing more than their swords and orders to engage. Centuries of idleness transforming to impatience. Others voiced some reservations.

For one human soul? For this we lay siege to Hell, after eons of suffering their hubris?

But they were quickly quelled by glares from the higher ranks.

For his part, Castiel made his preparations quietly. No one found this cause for comment – Castiel had been very quiet for over two decades. The battle that was approaching was something that was unprecedented even for angels. But it was God’s will and he would carry it through with every last spark of his existence.

He only wished that Anna was there.

When he was called alone before one of his superiors – one he did not know by sight, one several ranks above those who normally set forth his orders – Castiel was afraid that his wish was so strong that others could feel it. And that he was to be taken to task for it.

This was not the case. But what he was told was no less dismaying.

“Castiel. You are not to take part in this siege.”

Castiel said nothing, but his reaction to the words must have shown, for the other angel pinned him with a knowing look.

“Never fear,” she said. “You have a part to play in this fight. But it is not with the rest of the Garrison at the Gates.”

“If I may,” Castiel said, respectfully (for it seemed expected that he would say something), “the Gates of Hell have never been breached. Surely every angel will be needed to--”

He was cut off by a dismissive wave.

“And the Gates of Hell will not be breached now. It is a means to make the little abominations swarm, nothing more. While they are occupied at the Gates and other defenses are weakened, you will cross over into Hell. You will find Dean Winchester, raise him, return him to Earth, and restore him to his mortal body. Do you understand?”

Castiel, after a very long moment, replied, “Yes.”

What else could he say?

The orders were straightforward – they did not require further clarification. He would never think of questioning them aloud, even though the idea of going into Hell alone sent a curl of fear that he did not know himself capable of experiencing through his being. Even though a line of traitorously doubtful thoughts wound through his mind.

How can I succeed alone? What will become of me there? What if I fail?

Why me?

Castiel knows his place. Well. It is an easy matter when that place has been the same for next to eternity. He is a foot soldier. An infantryman. No more. Why him?

His superior eyed him, again with the disconcerting impression that she could see into the corners of Castiel’s mind.

“This order comes from the highest level, Castiel,” she said. “And was quite specific. This mission is yours alone.” She looked the younger angel up and down. “Someone has great faith in you.”

Not necessarily me, the tone seemed to imply. But Someone.

“You will not fail us,” she added, and whether that was an order, a reassurance, or something in between, Castiel couldn’t rightly say. “Now, you may go. Make ready and wait for the signal to depart."

Until then, there was nothing for Castiel to do but wait.

And wonder if he would ever one day even come close to understanding his Father’s ways.