A bell chimes as Castiel holds open the door to the small diner for Makayla as she hesitantly slips in past the trench–coated man, her eyes scanning the booths of patrons for anyone that seemed particularly angelic.
"So, what exactly are we doing here?"
The woman paused in the threshold of the small establishment, the smell of stale coffee and maple syrup permeating the air. She took in the sight of several couples talking over plates of steaming eggs and toast, waitresses milling around, conversing with the customers, and a handful of businessmen drinking mugs of black coffee with newspapers in hand.
"I mean, if we're supposed to be meeting some hotshot friend of yours, don't you Angels have, like, a heavenly conference room, or something?"
She quirked a brow, turning to face the Angel slightly as he came to stand beside her.
"Why here?"
"Oh, come on, Makayla,"
a voice crooned from near the breakfast bar, and the girl turned around to face an older man, donned in a black suit and beige tie, thinning gray hair disappearing into an intense face filled with worry lines and a scowl.
"you learn you're a Solpetha and suddenly a typical Winchester venue isn't up to par anymore?"
He took a tentative sip of coffee, eyes still on the newspaper in his hands. He had yet to lift his gaze to look at the couple, but the moment Makayla had shifted her focus to the man who had spoken, a shockwave traveled up her spine and dispersed into the back of her neck. This man radiated a certain air of importance, and she suddenly felt a sort of uneasiness settle into the pit of her stomach, unconsciously shifting her body slightly closer to Castiel.
"Yeah, well, I just figured greasy diner food didn't quite fit the sophisticated palette of..."
she glanced at several of the diners who eyed her with interest, as the conversation from across the restaurant had drawn their attention. Makayla cleared her throat.
"...of...individuals, such as yourself."
Castiel lowered his head towards her, eyebrows furrowed just slightly. His voice was low, but not low enough to avoid being detected by those eavesdropping around them.
"Makayla, Angels don't require sustenance in the way that humans do—"
To her surprise, however, the other Angel at the counter began to chuckle, rather loudly, as to draw attention away from Castiel's particularly conspicuous statement.
"Ah, now there is that Winchester sense of humor I have heard so much about."
The man finally turned to look at her, gesturing with a jerk of his head for her to join him at the stool adjacent to him.
As the other patrons began to turn their attention back to their own conversations, Makayla glanced at Castiel with a smirk before making her way over to the bar, sliding into the seat that had been designated for her.
"Wow, an Angel with a sense of humor. Aren't you charming."
"No, actually, he's Zachariah."
Castiel explained, taking the seat beside Makayla.
"Cas, that's not—I was just—"
"So, what'll it be, Makayla? Overeasy eggs, pancakes, hashbrowns with ketchup—the usual?"
Zachariah interrupted, motioning for the waitress behind the bar to get started on her order.
Makayla stuttered.
"What—no, that's okay, just a coffee would be fine, thank you."
As the waitress filled the white porcelain mug in front of the Winchester girl, Makayla folded her hands, resting them on the counter.
"So, you, uh—you know my breakfast order. That's not creepy at all."
Zachariah chuckled, again, and Makayla was starting to find his laughter obnoxious. Maybe she preferred an Angel who didn't quite grasp her sense of sarcasm.
"I know everything about you, Makayla."
"And why is that?"
"Because I've made it my business to know."
This was the first time his words had an edge to them, and Makayla felt the mood shift immediately, the lighthearted conversation replaced with something much darker. Her posture fell, slightly, her shoulders slumping inward and her gaze falling downward.
Makayla gestured for the server to stop pouring after the cup was about halfway filled, before picking up the small pitcher of cream and tipping some into her mug.
At her lack of verbal response, Zachariah took this as his cue to continue.
"Makayla Jaimes Winchester. The last Solpetha to walk the Earth. Must make you feel pretty special, huh? I mean, pair that with the twin who rose from the dead and a little brother who parties with demons—makes for one hell of a family dynamic."
She gulped, ripping open a few sugar packets and adding them to her cup before taking the small teaspoon and beginning to stir the liquid.
"Yeah, well, none of us asked for this."
"Of course not. This life, this path—the fate of the Winchesters has been in the making for millennia. The three of you hold the weight of the world on your shoulders. The future of the entire human race hangs in the balance, and you—my sweet, darling Makayla..."
he lifted an arm, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand. It took every bit of energy for her not to grab his sleeve and break his fingers, but she figured attacking an Angel would probably not be the wisest decision. However, the two men could sense her discomfort, both with the tensing of her body and their intuitive sense of her emotions. He pulled his arm back, clearing his throat, before continuing.
"...along with your brothers, are the only people standing in the way of complete and total annihilation."
She scoffed, although her body relaxed slightly, and she took a sip of the sweet caffeinated beverage, rolling her eyes.
"Gee, this is so, so comforting to hear. Really, thank you, Zach, for enlightening me."
The man chuckled.
"For someone who wants all of her questions answered, you humans sure do hate the burden of knowledge."
"No, but what I do hate is how completely clueless you guys are when it comes to human empathy. I mean, come on, isn't there, like, a but, here? Or am I just supposed to be content knowing that if I breathe the wrong way, the Earth is gonna split in two?"
Zachariah studied her carefully, and she didn't back down. She faced him brazenly, her hands clenching into fists in her lap.
"You better learn to be content with it, kid. Because that's the way it is. It's in your blood. For two of you Winchesters, I mean that literally."
He smirked, looking back down at his newspaper, feigning boredom.
Her brows furrowed at that last part.
"What—what's that supposed to mean?"
He looked up at her, finally folding the paper and pushing it away from him.
"You know exactly what I mean. Sam, the boy with the demon blood, and you, Makayla, the girl with the angelic grace coursing through her veins. And Dean, well...nothing in his blood but an abundance of liquor, but his role is fundamental nonetheless."
"I just don't understand. Why me? Why us?"
"Don't ask me. You think your ragtag family of freaks would've been my first choice? Puh-lease. Don't flatter yourself."
The man laughed, a bit louder and harder than the joke deserved, and the girl stared at him, brow quirked with a look of disapproval. His laughter faltered as he felt Makayla's glare, and quickly cleared his throat again.
"Regardless, the Lord chose you, Makayla. To be a Solpetha is not just a burden, it is a privilege, an honor. You should be grateful."
The girl sniggered before folding her hands in mock prayer.
"Oh great and powerful God, thank you for bestowing upon me this gift of angelic grace, whatever the hell that means, allowing me the absolute blessing of getting to fraternize with these utterly chivalrous and compassionate Angels, who are nothing if not a pleasure to be around."
Zachariah watched on, unimpressed, as she recited her prayer up to the sky in a phony British accent, each new word dripping with more sarcasm than the previous.
"Hilarious."
Makayla shot him a sly grin, taking another sip of her coffee. Castiel remained silent, and this did not go unnoticed by the girl.
"Unfortunately, God can't come to the phone right now. He's been MIA for awhile now, which is why the Angels are tasked with cleaning up this mess and stopping the literal world from ending."
Zachariah shrugged nonchalantly, but Makayla scoffed.
"God is MIA? How does that even happen? How can the big man upstairs choose to go on sabbatical when the literal apocalypse is coming?"
"The Lord works in mysterious ways."
Castiel recited lowly, although his words were uncertain and halfhearted. Makayla offered him a small glance, but he didn't meet her gaze.
Zachariah rolled his eyes.
"The guy can do whatever he wants, he's God."
Makayla shrugged. Who was she kidding, it was a fair point.
"The point is, the apocalypse is coming. Lilith, the 66 seals, Lucifer rising, blah blah blah, you know the rest. The future is rapidly approaching. But you, Makayla, you and your brothers have the power to stop all of this. It's your destiny. It's been decided since before you were even conceived. Your role in all of this, all of you—it's up to you three to decide if all of this will come to fruition."
Makayla took the last swig of her coffee, wiping her mouth with the back of her sleeve. She glanced at Zachariah, who was looking at her expectantly.
"So...is that it? Was that the purpose of this little rendezvous? You're just here to repeat the whole 'end of the world, the future hangs in the balance, the Winchesters are fucked' spiel to me? Because believe me, sir, I have heard that speech plenty of times over the past few weeks, so—"
"I figured I'd take this opportunity to introduce myself to you, Makayla."
He didn't let her finish, and his eyes were cold.
"It's not everyday I get the chance to meet Heaven's greatest ally, and it's a golden opportunity for you to learn who you're really dealing with."
Her jaw slammed shut, clenching slightly, and she felt a shiver travel up her spine. This was no longer a simple informational meeting. This was a warning.
"You'll be seeing a lot more of me, kid, so get used to it. There's a certain order to these things. After all, it's not every century that the apocalypse rolls around. This situation needs to be handled with a delicate touch."
He smirked.
"Think of me as a sort of warden. You have a job to do. You neglect your duties, you deal with me. You step out of line, you deal with me. You forget your place, you deal with me. Do you understand?"
The air was static, prickling with anticipation. After a moment of pause, Zachariah was surprised as Makayla let out a hearty laugh.
"You're cute, Zach, really. Adorable. But you don't scare me. You know why?"
She leaned towards him, her steely gaze matching his own in intensity.
"You can't hurt me. Hell, you can't do anything to me. There's only one Solpetha, asshat, but there are plenty of you winged sons–of–bitches up there. Only one of us is replaceable, Zachariah, and it sure as hell ain't me."
"Maybe not. But your friend Castiel sure is."
She froze, and Zachariah noticed her faltering, a moment of weakness damaging her impenetrable exterior. He chuckled coldly.
"And he answers to me, too. So I would watch myself if I were you. Because one wrong move from you, and your precious little Guardian Angel gets pushed to the back of a long, long line of soldiers who are prepared to do just about anything to win this war. Soldiers who are a lot less forgiving than old blue–eyes behind you."
Makayla's nose twitched, her body stiff and pumping with adrenaline. Nonetheless, her gaze didn't waver. She leaned in a little closer.
"Is that supposed to be a threat?"
Her voice was low, nearly a growl, and Zachariah's lips twisted into a wicked grin.
"Oh, no, Makayla. That's a promise."
Even though the pair held each other's stares for a long moment, neither of them allowed the other to gauge their emotions—Makayla unable to read Zachariah because he was practically emotionless, and him unable to read the girl because she was too damn stubborn for her own good.
Finally, after a few beats, the man smiled coolly.
"God chose you to shoulder this burden for a reason. You've got a fire in you, Makayla, you've got spunk. Most of all, you've got heart."
She turned away, huffing, cheeks flushing red. She was glad the moment of tension was over, although his tone still wasn't any less biting.
"Unfortunately for you, heart isn't going to stop the apocalypse."
"Then what is?"
Her anger exploded, finally, red and hot and searing. She threw her hands up in frustration, her volume level rising by the second.
"What is it that you want from me, exactly? From Dean, or Sam, or any of us? We're not pawns, we're people. Just like the body you're holding hostage right now. Just like every single person in this cafe. We are people. We bleed, and we fall, and we die, and we are not meant to fight this war for you."
She shook her head, letting out a short, curt laugh of disbelief, using her hands to grip the edge of the countertop and push her stool away, standing abruptly.
"And to think, you're supposed to be watching over us. This world, these humans—God's most beloved creation. They pray to you, and believe in you, they build temples and devote their lives to worshipping you. And what have you done to repay them? You've sat idly by, up on your ivory pedestals, watching all of this chaos, this evil, and you do nothing. No war or massacre was big enough for you to intervene, but now, now that the apocalypse is coming and you face a battle you might actually have to fight, you flutter your wings and enlist a couple of hunters to be on the frontline. Awfully noble of you, awfully righteous. You're a coward. All of you are. I'm done with this. With all of it. Tell God, wherever that bastard is, that he picked the wrong girl."
Customers were staring, some standing to get a better view of the commotion as the girl turned to storm out of the diner.
A hand grabbed her wrist, jolting her body and breaking her from her rage–induced stupor.
"Makayla."
Castiel spoke quietly beside her, his voice gentle and soft. She let out a long breath as she turned to look at him, his blue eyes finding her gaze. His body flooded with her frustration and annoyance, but underneath it all, he could only make out one thing.
Fear.
Makayla Winchester was scared.
She sent one last glance towards Zachariah, who was smirking rather triumphantly, before pulling her arm out of Castiel's grip, meeting his gaze once again. Her green eyes were glossy, and she searched her Angel's face for some kind of emotion, some kind of sympathy, concern, anything.
But she watched as his gaze flickered to the Angel behind her, and his features remained perfectly indifferent.
She shook her head, just barely, in utter disappointment. Her bottom lip trembled slightly, and when she spoke, her voice cracked.
"I have to go."
Castiel could only watch as she stormed out the glass door, the bell chiming aggressively as it slammed shut behind her. With a snap of Zachariah's fingers, the customers began milling around and returning to their normal conversations as though nothing had happened. The older Angel picked up his paper before offering Castiel a final glance, turning his attention back to the text in front of him.
"Don't forget your orders, Castiel. Don't forget who and what you are."
Castiel's gaze remained fixated on the door, watching through the windows as the Impala pulled out of the gravel parking lot and skidded onto the pavement before speeding off in the distance.
"She's just one human. Solpetha or not, she's just like any of the rest of them."
Zachariah smiled to himself.
"Perfectly naive. Desperate for a sense of direction. Humans were made to be controlled and manipulated and exploited. If you continue to earn her trust and coax her into submission, she will be putty in your hands. A perfect soldier."
The man in the trench–coat stayed silent, his expression unchanging and still. But regardless of his frozen features, he could not ignore the gnawing sensation in the pit of his stomach. To his left, the other Angel chuckled again, sounding maniacal and conniving.
"The Winchesters. What a sad, sorry bunch of souls. When the time comes, they'll do what is needed. Sooner or later, they'll realize that they are powerless to stop this."
"What if you're wrong?"
Castiel's question came out quieter than he anticipated, but Zachariah was surprised at how bold and certain he sounded.
"I'm never wrong."
Zachariah insisted, studying his angelic partner carefully, eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion.
"And besides. Humans all have their weaknesses. Even the Winchesters. It's only a matter of time before they break down and succumb to their truth."
The paper began to crumple beneath his grip as his hands slowly turned to fists.
"You'll see, Castiel. The future is inevitable. And one by one, they will all. fall. down."