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All Creatures of Our God and King 1/2

September 9th, 2009 (02:04 pm)

Title: All Creatures of Our God and King

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Warnings: Some religious content to come, borrowing heavily on Christian ideas as they relate to the show (though it is good to note that I wouldn't say this is straight up Christian belief, nor do I actually endorse it as a real world interpretation). It’s the show that brought God and angels into the mix, not me :) I’m just giving them a different depth.  Also, I forgot to mention that there is major character death going on in this one.  It's not a particularly happy story.

A/N: This fic is...different. I couldn’t exactly tell you where it came from but here it is. I also tackled this fic as part of my Pay It Forward for

moogsthewriter .


Hopefully it’s not too out there! Thanks to sendintheklowns for hand holding and geminigrl11 for the beta. This has spoilers for everything up through S4 and some future stuff that is likely to be AU in about a day. I'll be posting the last chapter of Between the Lines and then my pre S5 posting binge will be complete :)

Summary: It’s not the fall that kills you. It’s the sudden stop at the end.


Let all things their Creator bless,

And worship Him in humbleness,

O praise Him! Alleluia!

Praise, praise the Father, praise the Son,

And praise the Spirit, Three in One!

-from All Creatures of Our God and King by Saint Francis of Assisi


In the beginning, God made the heavens and the light. The earth was formless and empty, and darkness covered the deep waters. And the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.

That was the way this story began, back at the dawn of human time. And it was a beautiful picture: a painter and His masterpiece. Loving God and His beautiful children. The trees were green and the water was blue and the man worked the garden while his wife tended the animals. The lion and the lamb danced in time together to the endless song of new and joyous praise.

It took six days to create such beauty. And God was right: it was good.

On that seventh day, that day of rest, God sat down to appreciate what He’d made. And the heavenly host were with Him, looking down at the newest additions to God’s cosmic family.

Most were silent, amused and awestruck, joyous and eager. For the beginning was always spectacular, and they wished to revel in God’s power. But there was one angel, new to the ranks, who looked down in curiosity. Fully aware of God’s grace upon His creatures, the angel approached God, kneeling, and asked his question: “Why is it so good, Lord?”

God did not look away from His creation. “Can you not see?” He asked.

The angel looked again, studying the image. He saw many things, great and small, but he still could not discern what made this so special. “I see them working,” the angel noted. “They seem happy.”

God nodded, with a satisfied nod. “They are working.”

The angel watched the man harvesting fruit and watched the woman talking to a small animal. “Why do they work?”

“They choose to work,” God said. “Can you not see why that is good?”

Again the angel watched, his curiosity deepening. “Lord, I do not,” he admitted.

At that, God sighed, turning His attention fully to the angel. “They choose to work because they desire it. It is my will and they have chosen and therefore it is good.”

The answer was more and less than he had expected, and the angel found himself even more perplexed. “If it is your will, then why is there any choice at all?”

“They are free,” God said, looking back at them again. “I have made them in my likeness, and they have been given the choice to decide their own destiny.”

The thought settled over the angel with a burst of horror. “But what if they choose wrong, Lord?” he asked.

God smiled, a little sad. “I will love them anyway.”

“But your plan, Lord. It will ruin your plan.”

“My plan accounts for all things,” God said. “The steps are different, but the destination is the same.”

“But, Lord,” the angel protested. “your will must prevail.”

God shook his head, looking at the angel with love and sadness. “My goodness is sufficient for them, just as it is for you. Do you trust me?”

“You know I do, Lord,” the angel replied promptly.

“Then trust this much,” God told him. “Trust that this world and these people, even when they sin and destroy the paradise I have created--they are still good. It is why I created them: to love. Do not forget that, Zachariah. No matter what.”

Zachariah went away, back among his brethren, and pondered these words for some time to come.


Somewhere between the fall of man and the rebirth of hope, Zachariah found God again, sitting sadly over His creation. The angel grew worried at the sadness of the Lord, and approached Him once again.

“What is wrong, Lord?” he asked.

“They have chosen poorly,” God said. “It breaks my heart. I only want them to be saved.”

“So save them,” Zachariah said.

“To save them now would be to condemn many,” God explained. “The situation must become dire, the risks of interfering greater than the cost of sitting idle.”

“I do not understand,” Zachariah admitted.

“Let me show you,” God said, and He waved his hand. Before them, time and space unfurled, playing out before them with clarity and speed. It was as beautiful as it was horrifying, and as Zachariah watched, he saw wars begin and end, he saw people be born and die, and he saw the evil that lurked in the hearts of men.

The sight gutted him, and he felt the urge to cry. “They will kill each other,” he said. “Why do you let it persist?”

God remained impassive. “They are free,” God said. “This is their choice.”

“This is why I asked you before: why not take it from them? It will spare them much heartache.”

“And cost them much joy,” God replied. “I will not take their will from them.”

“So you will let them destroy each other?”

“I will let them find their hope,” God said. “It is always here for their taking. They must simply ask. That is another lesson, Zachariah. Do not forget it.”

So Zachariah believed.


God summoned Zachariah again, and the angel bowed in His presence. “What is it you wish, Lord?” he asked.

“I have something to show you,” God said.

“I am honored to receive such attention,” Zachariah said.

“You are a faithful servant,” God said. “You work hard to be dutiful.”

“Serving you is my only goal,” Zachariah said.

With a smile, God nodded. “This is why I have chosen you for this,” he said. “Now, watch.”

God spun His finger, one graceful movement, and the timeline spun forward again, twisting through the eons until it settled on an age of concrete and gray. With a flick of His wrist, God focused the image, pulling them closer to the image of two men. “What do you see, my son?”

They were young, and Zachariah could see they were downtrodden. Deep circles under their eyes, weary expression on their faces. “They are tired, Lord.”

“Very,” God agreed. “I want you to take note, Zachariah. Take special note of these two.”

“And why is that, Lord?” Zachariah asked, watching as the two drove together, one at the wheel, the other by his side.

“Because they are chosen,” God said. “Much like Jacob and Esau. One will be chosen and the other will be rejected.”

“But are they not free, Lord?” Zachariah asked.

“Until their very last breath,” God confirmed. “Blessing falls on whom it falls. The blessed can use it as they will, for good or bad. The curse that befalls the unfortunate is not their condemnation, it is simply their burden.”

Zachariah watched, eyes narrowing. “Which one is which?” he asked.

God smiled at him, looking at Zachariah with sparkling eyes. “And is that not the question, good servant?” He asked. “It is not the blessing or the curse that matters: it is what they make of it that counts. Watch them still, Zachariah. They will need your guidance in the age to come.”

“I will not disappoint you,” Zachariah pledged.

“I believe you,” God said. “Now, go. Resume your duties and I will call you if I have further instructions.”


“I have a question, Lord,” Zachariah asked one day.

“You have been faithful,” God replied. “Please, ask your question.”

Zachariah hesitated, looking down for a moment. “I have heard the others talking of one who has fallen,” he said. He looked up tentatively. “Are these whispers true?”

God nodded gravely. “They speak of their fallen brother, Lucifer.”

“Who is Lucifer?”

“Lucifer was my creation, just as you,” God said. His face turned nostalgic and the stars below them formed Lucifer’s shining face. “He was beautiful, you see. One of the most beautiful of all my works.”

Zachariah looked at the image, the strong features, the knowing curve of his lips. The wings that spread out from behind his body were strong and wide. “Then why did he fall if he had Your favor?”

The image moved, running and jumping and laughing. God sighed. “He had a role to play in my kingdom,” God said. “And he took it very seriously.”

“But is that not good?”

God nodded. “It is, indeed. I commissioned him to do my will, and he complied every time. But then, the more he succeeded, the more he wanted to succeed. He began to create his own plan and did not submit himself to follow mine.”

“But why is that, Lord? Your ways are perfect.”

God smiled fondly, waving His hand and dispersing the stars. “And in his desire to serve me more purely, he forgot to subject himself to me. He forgot that I did not need him to control things; I merely needed him to enact my will.”

“So what happened?”

“He forgot my ways and when I came to him again many years later, it was too late. His deeds condemned him and I could not keep him with me. He strove to find his own glory, not to rejoice in mine.”

“He was foolish then,” Zachariah said. “There is nothing better than serving in the glory of my almighty King and Master.”

“Remember that, dear Zachariah. For the years will be long and hard, and sometimes it is easy to forget.”

“I will not forget,” Zachariah pledged. “I am yours, until the end of time. I will do your will in all things.”

“Very good,” God said. “Would you like to stay with me now?”

“Yes, Lord,” Zachariah said. “I would like that very much.”

So God cleared the sky and opened the Heavens to Earth, where they watched man toiling and falling, loving and getting up again.


“I have one last lesson for you, my faithful servant,” God said. “Then I must continue my work elsewhere.”

“You will leave them here?” Zachariah asked. “I thought they were your children.”

“They are,” God said promptly. “And I do not leave them alone. I will entrust them to your care. The archangels will be available when the situation is dire, and when the time is right, I will return. So fear not the future, but heed this one last lesson.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Zachariah said obediently. “What is it you have to teach me?”

“Watch,” he said, extending his hand.

The scene coalesced, settling into another time many years in the future. Then Zachariah recognized the two men on screen. “The two from before,” he said.

“Very good,” God said. “Now, watch.”

He saw them grow up together. Two sons of the same parents. “They are brothers.”

“Indeed,” God said.

“They are very close,” Zachariah observed. “And very lonely.”

“I did not create them to live alone,” God said. “It is a dangerous childhood. Keep watching.”

Zachariah watched them grow up and fight. He watched them hurt each other and come together. “They are unbreakable,” he said. “They prevail over many things.”

“As long as they have each other,” God confirmed.

And then he watched them die. One and then the other. The entire scene changed.

Zachariah could find no words, nothing to ask, nothing to say. The scene was too painful to turn away from and he watched with morbid fascination until the very end. When then world ending, Lucifer rose, and the final war ravaged time.

“Destruction,” Zachariah breathed. “The younger causes ultimate destruction.”

God seemed satisfied with this realization. “He does.”

“We must stop him,” the angel continued with sudden urgency. “Squelch his existence, close his mother’s womb before he is conceived.”

“I will not,” God said. “For I love this one very much.”

“But he is evil,” Zachariah said. “An abomination.”

“You have missed my point, then,” God said. “You are still very young.”

“But, Lord,” Zachariah persisted. “I do not wish to see such despair.”

“It is only through these things that real redemption can be found. I celebrate every life, those which are pure and those which are tainted. The healthy do not need a cure; the sick do. Those who are blessed and do good will receive their reward. Those who are cursed and turn to me will receive it tenfold.”

“But this is about more than this one, is it not?” Zachariah asked. “This is about the fate of the entire creation you have worked so hard to make.”

“Oh, Zachariah,” God said. “You forget one very important thing.”

Zachariah looked at his Lord beseechingly, and saw the disappointment in His face. He felt ashamed, his head dropping as he tried to figure out his oversight. “What is that, Lord?”

God smiled. “That this story is not yet written,” He said. “We know the ending, but it is up to them how it plays out. It is our job to be there, every step of the way, and make sure they see the options fully before them before they make their choices. And that’s your job, Zachariah. It’s why I’ve brought you here. I want you to watch Earth, and be there as it unfolds. You will have a part to play as my will unfolds, I know, and I entrust you to it. My will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven.”

With that, God left Zachariah. The angel considered his Master’s words as he looked back to the Earth below him. The fire and fury of Lucifer had faded, but Zachariah could still see its imprint over every inch of the Earth, tarnishing everything from the vast blue seas to the smallest newborn infant.

And that’s your job, Zachariah.

“Your will be done, Lord,” he murmured, and he assumed his post over the Earth.


Zachariah’s ranks were young and inexperienced. As the Earth aged, they improved quickly, sometimes averting disasters, sometimes unable to persuade the hearts and minds of stubborn men to soften. It was a hard battle, and a wearying one, and Zachariah felt the weight of his burden in earnest.

“They are impossible,” Uriel seethed. “Lowly and inferior. Why are we still here?”

Zachariah sighed, rubbing a hand over his head. “We have our orders,” he said.

“Our orders?” Uriel asked. “Our orders are to stay and die for them? They are scum to us, unworthy of His glory.”

“Do you question the Lord your God?”Zachariah accused.

Doubt flickered across Uriel’s face before he drew himself together. “No,” he said.

“Good,” Zachariah said. “Then you are to return to your duties. I will inform you if I require anything from you.”

Uriel nodded his consent as he went back to his business. Zachariah watched him go, holding his last orders from God close to him, repeating it like a mantra as a cold night blanketed the Earth.

It is our job to be there, every step of the way, and make sure they see the options fully before them before they make their choices. And that’s your job, Zachariah. It’s why I’ve brought you here. I want you to watch Earth, and be there as it unfolds. You will have a part to play as my will unfolds, I know, and I entrust you to it. My will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven.

“Your will be done, Lord,” Zachariah whispered into the stillness. “Your will be done.”


Decades passed. Centuries. His troops were tired, and Zachariah could not balance everything. There was a famine in Africa and a war sparking in the Middle East. Some angels had disappeared entirely, others were looking unhappy. The toll of this burden was great, and Zachariah realized he could only fight so many battles.

He recalled some troops, left some on the ground. He set up observation points, to monitor from afar. When things got bad enough, he sent in reinforcements.

Day to day heartache was acceptable now. Small human skirmishes were a part of life. Normal disasters were necessary losses. The morale among his brethren improved even as the world slowly fell apart. The angels were now more accustomed to a measure of defeat.

Zachariah remembered the images God had shown him, and comforted himself with the knowledge that this was exactly how God had said it would be. But it was weak comfort, and Zachariah spent many years feeling cold and empty from this loss.


When darkness fell around the Earth each night, often Zachariah stayed awake, peering into the vast expanse. Sometimes, they looked so peaceful. Children tucked in their beds, husbands holding their wives before the breaking of another day.

But other times, the view was not so kind, and beyond the Earth, Zachariah could see God’s plan, the intricate tapestry of time He’d showed to Zachariah. He could see the final fall of man, the boy in Hell breaking the first seal, and the other on Earth breaking the last. And the white light and Lucifer’s rise and the years of war and terror that would ravage this once-beautiful land.

It was a hard image to forget, etched into the depths of his memory. Not even the face of a sleeping child could erase it from his mind, no matter how hard he tried.

God created them to love, and Zachariah loved them because they were his Master’s creation. God wanted good for them, just as He wished well for Zachariah and his warriors.

It was the sick who needed a doctor, and these people were ill. From the little children to the elderly, they were weary and dying in a fallen world.

And Zachariah was to watch, to guide, to help. Lay out their choices and hope they picked right.

But they were too young, too limited to choose well. Perhaps they were too ill from the disease of the world to have a chance at all.

Zachariah was not their doctor, but he could tend their needs. His abilities were significant--they might just be enough to do something.

So Zachariah closed his eyes to the sleeping world, remembered the ending one more time, and vowed to do anything he could to help this world of fallen souls.


The demon came to him above the earth, sharing his view of the Lord’s creation.

Zachariah looked at him. Too many years at this post made him incapable of surprise, but he still did not expect to see the demon. “The years have not been kind to you,” he said. “Do you not miss the way you used to be, dear Azazel?”

The yellow demon shrugged. “Life is full of trade-offs,” he answered.

“But your form--your pure form--it is tainted.”

The demon looked at him, frowning. “Sometimes it is easy to forget,” he said. “The white light was pure, you are right about that, but what I am now is not as bad as you seem to think.”

“You are lesser,” Zachariah said, contempt and pity in his voice.

“And I am happier,” Azazel told him.

Zachariah looked back at the creation. “What can make you happy in that?”

“And what can make you happy here?” Azazel asked. “Such power and ability, and you are babysitting while they kill each other. That’s not what God intended. Not for any of us. He instilled them with free will, and rejoices in their use of it. Why should the same not be true for us?”

Zachariah refused to comment, his brow furrowed deeply and set against his fallen comrade.

Azazel approached him, edging closer. “You know it is true,” he said. “I can see it in your face. You have doubted your assignment for centuries.”

“I do not doubt God,” Zachariah insisted tersely.

“Of course not,” Azazel said readily. “But isn’t it possible, just a little bit, that maybe you’ve got his orders down wrong?”

Zachariah hesitated. “What do you mean?”

Azazel sidled in next to him. “Tell me again, because I know you know, what is God’s will for this planet?”

“He wishes to save them,” Zachariah said.

“Save them, yes,” Azazel agreed. “But if there is no threat, why would they need to be saved?”

Zachariah pondered this. “They are like His children.”

“And they are alone in a cruel world,” Azazel pushed. “Surely God wants to bring them home, bring them home to Him?”

Zachariah shook his head. “I do not understand.”

“Think about it, brother,” Azazel said. “Demons are a necessary counterpoint to goodness. He needs us in order to make that pesky free will of theirs worthwhile. More than that, He needs us to move his plan ahead. The Earth’s been hanging out in limbo for the last two millennia. When He talked about soon, I don’t think this is what He meant.”

Zachariah looked longingly back at creation, and remembered his long years of watching them suffer uselessly.

“You can end it,” Azazel said. “You can bring about God’s will.”

And that’s your job, Zachariah. It’s why I’ve brought you here. I want you to watch Earth, and be there as it unfolds. You will have a part to play as my will unfolds, I know, and I entrust you to it. My will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven

Zachariah took a deep breath, and turned to his yellow companion. “And tell me,” he said. “Tell me, brother. What must I do?”

And the yellow-eyed demon smiled and asked for but one request before helping his long lost brother.


The one called Castiel came to him years later, looking very much distressed. “They are making deals,” he reported. “I thought they had no power over such things?”

Zachariah looked down, his back straight. “What sorts of deals?”

“For life and death,” he reported. “For souls and loyalty. Even for children.”

Concerned, Zachariah peered closer. “For children?”

“Yes, sir,” Castiel reported. “The one with yellow eyes. He is bleeding into the mouths of infants.”

“And the mothers gave consent?” Zachariah asked.

“They made deals, though I do not believe they understood the nature of their promises.”

Zachariah frowned.

“Do you know how this is possible, sir?” Castiel asked. “How demons have been granted this much power?”

Zachariah remembered God’s orders and Azazel’s yellow smile.

It’s why I’ve brought you here. I want you to watch Earth, and be there as it unfolds. You will have a part to play as my will unfolds, I know, and I entrust you to it. My will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven.

You can end it. You can bring about God’s will.

Zachariah turned to the young angel in his charge and shook his head. “God works in mysterious ways,” he said. “Now, go about your business and do not ask again.”


Chaos increased. Man advanced and in their opulence, found new vices. Zachariah watched and found it hard not to hate them.

So much potential, all squandered. Heaven was here for them, if they only asked, but they were too self-absorbed to look.

There were times, of course, when Zachariah wanted to turn back, to go to Azazel and take back his pledge, to renege on his support.

But day after day, night after night, and Zachariah was tired of watching God’s children self-destruct. If they would not ask for salvation, Zachariah would take it to them, whether they wanted it or not.

I want you to watch Earth, and be there as it unfolds. You will have a part to play as my will unfolds, I know, and I entrust you to it. My will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven.

This was his part. The Lord’s will be done.


He met Azazel on the plains of the Earth, trapped in the body of a man that was not worthy. Zachariah’s presence blinded the man, seared his skin, and Azazel glared at him from the deformed features. “Did you have to do that?” he asked. “I just picked this one up.”

“I need to speak to you.”

“Anytime, brother.”

“You have deceived me.”

Azazel feigned innocence. “I asked for but one request.”

“To take souls that offer themselves to you freely,” Zachariah clarified. “You are taking those on the deals of others.”

Azazel shrugged. “A minor technicality,” he said.

“What other technicalities are you omitting?” Zachariah demanded.

“I’m not sure I follow you.”

“You seek Lucifer,” Zachariah said. “To let him out. What does he have to offer that you are so interested in releasing?”

“Lucifer?” Azazel asked. “He’s the same guy that he’s always been. Just a little, you know--” He raised a finger to his head and twirled it. “--crazy. But, what is it the kids say these days? Crazy like a fox.”

Zachariah was not amused. “I’m not interested in what they say.”

Azazel had to work to look surprised in his damaged body, but he pulled it off. “I thought that was the point,” he said. “That this is all for these lowly peons that God loves so much.”

“You understand my meaning.”

“Do I?” Azazel asked. “It seems to me that this became less and less about the humans a long time ago.”

“I asked you a question,” Zachariah charged. “And unless you wish me to rip you out of that body and burn you to this ground, I suggest you answer it.”

“Well, well, Zach,” Azazel said, holding his hands out submissively. “Looks like someone’s been growing a backbone since we last talked. I always found that hard considering the whole metaphysical presence thing we’ve got going on.”

“Lucifer,” Zachariah said. “Tell me what you know of Lucifer’s plans.”

“Okay, okay,” Azazel relented. “I liked you better when you had your compassion and your sense of humor. This new you takes all the fun out of destroying the world.”

“I will not ask you again.”

“Lucifer plans to rule the world,” Azazel said with an exasperated sigh. “The whole ‘power and pride’ shtick. He seems to think he can do it better or something, for whatever that’s worth.”

Zachariah made a face. “He is destined to lose,” he said. “So why do you follow him in a suicide mission?”

“He’s got a killer benefits package,” Azazel quip. With no response, Azazel just rolled what was left of his host’s eyes. “You just have to ask yourself what’s worth it. Lucifer may be crazy, but his justice is clear. There’s no mystery about what he wants even if it is all kinds of crazy. So you just have to ask yourself, do you want to understand the sword before you throw yourself on it or do you want the way it cuts through your gut to be a surprise?”

Zachariah appraised him. “You are foolish,” he said finally. “You will lose.”

“Well, maybe so,” Azazel agreed. “But, brother, at least I’ll see it coming.”


Zachariah continued on from Azazel and took in the state of the Earth. He had not walked these grounds for many years. God had left him here to guide, to offer assistance, and that was still Zachariah’s mission.

More or less.

He took the body of a homeless man whose mind was too far gone for reason or consent. It was a noble purpose for such a broken soul, and Zachariah trusted that God’s reward for him would be great for this important part.

He took his vessel to John Winchester, who was finishing a hunt in Missouri. The clean-up was messy and the man was tired and alone. It had been many years since his wife’s death and the man was close to breaking entirely from his loss. God intended humans to find their hope, and John Winchester had none.

Zachariah could fix that. “I see you cleaned up the mess here,” Zachariah said, tucking a gun into his jacket pocket.

John looked up at him, suspicious. “What of it?”

“This rugaru mess,” Zachariah continued. “Fine work here.”

“Who said anything about a--what did you call it?”

Zachariah smiled. “I know what you are, hunter,” he said. “And I’ve come to help you.”

“Well, like you said, I’m cleaning up my mess. Your help is a little late.”

“You don’t need help with a rugaru,” Zachariah conceded. “But you still need help.”

John shook his head. “I think I’ve got it under control.”

“How is the hunt for the thing that killed your wife, John?”

John stilled, looking at him with dead eyes. “What did you say?”

“You heard me,” Zachariah continued. “And yeah, I know all about it.”

John’s jaw locked and he looked away. “You don’t know anything.”

“She died in your son’s room, didn’t she?” Zachariah asked.

The human stiffened, his fingers tensing. “What would you know about that?”

Zachariah feigned innocence. “I hear things,” he said.

“Well, you keep your hearing to yourself,” John threatened.

Zachariah held up his hands. “I don’t mean you any harm,” he promised. “I just thought I could help you.”

“How could help me?” John asked, his voice saturated with skepticism.

“I know what killed your wife,” he said. “More than that, I know why.”

That was the ticket, the knowledge that piqued John Winchester’s interest. Zachariah would need no deals to work with this one. Just like God said, he would lay out the options and make sure that this human picked the right one.

He smiled. “A demon,” he said. “Named--”

“Azazel,” John finished. “I know that. But I don’t know why.”

Zachariah nodded, impressed. This human knew more than he anticipated. Perhaps the seeds of doubt were already there. “Doesn’t it strike you, John, that it wasn’t coincidence that your wife died over your boy’s crib?”

John’s eyes narrowed. “And what of it?”

“That maybe it wasn’t Mary who was the target.”

A spark of fear flashed in John’s eyes and his posture stiffened again. “What are you trying to say?”

“A hunter like you,” Zachariah persisted. “I’m sure it’s crossed your mind.”

“Leave my boys out of this,” John said, his voice low.

“Denial won’t help you avenge your wife,” he said. “And it won’t help you save your sons.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” John said.

Zachariah shrugged. “Maybe you need to see,” he said.

John was opening his mouth to ask the question when Zachariah snapped his fingers. He took them to the beginning of this part of the tragedy, showed John the yellow-eyed demon bleeding into the mouth of his little boy. He showed him enough to break his heart, and then he took John back, left him asleep in his car and hoped that when the human woke up, his heart would heal harder than it was before.

Zachariah knew these creatures were made to love, and it would take work to taint the love of a father for a son, but it was another piece to the puzzle.

Back in Heaven, Zachariah watched John Winchester wake, watched him go to his sons, watched him looked at the oldest with love and the youngest with doubt.

And Zachariah saw that it was good.


Max Miller died. His soul was denied access to Heaven, and the angels wept. “The blood was not his fault,” Castiel insisted. “The situation he was in, what choice did he have?”

“There is always a choice,” Zachariah said.

“But what choices did he have? Tainted as an infant, abused all his life. There is no choice in that.”

“Killing his family was definitely a choice,” Zachariah said. “He does not deserve Heaven.”

“Nor does he deserve Hell,” Castiel insisted.

Zachariah sighed, and tried to remember his own innocence. He tried to remember the horror of watching mankind fall, the grief over the first death. It had been many years since then--too many. He could not stop this destruction. He could only hasten its end.

Max Miller. Ava Wilson. Andy Gallagher. Sam Winchester. These were acceptable losses.

“Weep not,” Zachariah ordered. “We have much work to do.”

“But how are we to win when the demons have the unfair advantage? They are taking souls before they have a chance.”

“God works in mysterious ways, Castiel,” Zachariah said. “Do not doubt your God or your orders.”

Castiel’s countenance trembled, but he nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Zachariah smiled as he dismissed him, but the tendrils of doubt were not so easy to shake.


He found Azazel biding his time just outside the gates of Hell. “Quite the show you’re putting on up there,” Zachariah said.

Azazel grinned. “I told you you wouldn’t want to miss it.”

“But did you have to take so many?” Zachariah asked. “I told you you could take the one, and I turned a blind eye to your deals.”

Azazel shrugged. “I don’t like putting all my eggs in one basket.”

“But Sam Winchester is the one you wanted.”

“I stopped trusting prophecy a long time ago,” Azazel explained. “What God sets in motion is not the end all, be all. There’s that pesky thing called free will.”

“But that’s why we’re still here, isn’t it? To make sure their free will doesn’t get in the way?”

Azazel grinned. “You always did have more faith than I,” he said. “Besides, this is so much more fun.”

“You push the limits of my patience,” Zachariah said. “I granted you the power to take the one, and you are abusing it greatly.”

“A little extra chaos never hurt anyone,” Azazel said. Then he thought about then, and grinned. “Well, so maybe it does. But if your stomach is weak at this, brother, you’re going to have no fortitude for the things to come. Gird those angelic loins, Zachariah. God will sort out the details--when He finally comes back.”

And that was the promise that Zachariah was counting on, the one truth he had been holding on to even as he let the creation before him fall apart. A greater good--for Earth, for Hell, for Heaven. After all, Zachariah could remember his orders.

You will have a part to play as my will unfolds, I know, and I entrust you to it. My will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven.

It was his only solace as he left Azazel behind him. Azazel’s loyalties were his downfall. Zachariah’s would be his redemption.


Zachariah watched the ones called the Winchesters. He watched them hunt, he watched them fight, he watched them break. One by one by one by one.

Seated within the heavens, Zachariah crossed his arms and nestled back, and thought to himself that this was good, indeed.



Posted by: sendintheclowns (sendintheklowns)
Posted at: September 10th, 2009 12:47 am (UTC)

Zachariah watched them grow up and fight. He watched them hurt each other and come together. “They are unbreakable,” he said. “They prevail over many things.”

“As long as they have each other,” God confirmed.

Now why can't the show take a cue from that?

Zachariah...pretty clueless. It's a good thing God is patient.

I love that this is something totally original and unexplores. Great stuff.

Posted by: do i dare or do i dare? (faye_dartmouth)
Posted at: September 15th, 2009 07:29 pm (UTC)
behold the limp

You are so nice to me.

Thanks :)

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