Invalid (Supernatural)

17. Where Do Your Loyalties Lie?

The blade burrowed into the blonde woman's chest and she screamed in a blinding burst of light. He raised a quick hand to the surprised Gadreel, who fell to the floor in an unconscious heap, and jumped into the clearing. Then he turned to Castiel.

Castiel's eyes widened in recognition. He had already taken out his blade to defend himself against his unknown attacker. He now held it out in front of him between himself and Barachiel. Barachiel stood easy and looked over the angel before him almost lazily.

"You can drop the blade, Castiel," Barachiel told him passively.

"Tabbris," Castiel replied. "I see you've found out."

Barachiel scoffed, "Yes, no thanks to you."

Castiel lowered the blade, "I do not want to fight you, brother."

"It would not be a fight."

"Tabbris-," Castiel started.

"That is not my name," Barachiel cut in harshly.

Only Jen could get away with that.

"What are you doing, Barachiel? You are an Archangel of the Lord. You serve Heaven," he replied gruffly.

"I serve the new god, Metatron. And these are his orders."

"You serve no one," Castiel spat. "Least of all Metatron. He is no god. He isn't even fit to be an angel. He ruined Heaven."

Barachiel tapped his hand impatiently against his leg. This conversation was getting tiresome. He looked over at the unconcious Gadreel. He would be waking up soon, no doubt.

"Metatron is my commander. I must follow his orders, not the words of his enemy who lies to save himself," Barachiel said calmly.

Castiel's brows furrowed in confusion. "Why must you have a commander? You are a commander. He is beneath you."

"I am not a commander," Barachiel spat. "I am an angel. I live to serve."

Castiel walked closer to him and titled his head. "You are an archangel. You were meant to lead."

"No."

"So that's it, isn't it? You are afraid to lead the angels. You are afraid that you can't do it, that you won't know what to do. And you are afraid of what will happen on your watch."

Barachiel looked away sourly, "I have seen what leadership consists of, and it is war and pain and suffering."

Castiel shook his head. "It doesn't have to be that way. If we stop Metatron, we can get Heaven peace again."

Barachiel scoffed, "I'm sorry, brother, but I don't believe I was meant for peace."

Castiel looked down unhappily.

Then he said forcefully, "You serve Heaven, Barachiel. With Metatron, all there will ever be is war and pain and suffering. If you care anything for your true mission, you will stop him."

"I don't even know what my true mission is anymore," Barachiel mumbled.

"Your mission is to Heaven. And to people, humanity."

"I am serving Heaven," Barachiel repeated, but with far less conviction.

"You are lying to yourself."

Barachiel stared at him for what seemed like a long time. He had to think and he didn't like what he was thinking. Then he walked up to Castiel quickly causing him to step back. He ripped the blade out of Castiel's hand and turned it on himself. He rammed the blade into his shoulder as deep as it would go, gritting his teeth to the pain. Blood and the glowing, white grace flowed freely from his wound as he ripped the blade from his shoulder. Blood soaked his shirt and the blade left a searing pain in its wake. Barachiel fell to his knees trying to control it and dropped the blade.