Guidance, part 1

The city was ablaze with violent streaks of orange clawing their way out of homes and angry bursts of yellow detonating at the same rhythm as the villagers' panicked heartbeats. A once peaceful civilization was in utter chaos and the extent of destruction was irreparable. Michael watched on in dismay as the human casualties escalated.

He wondered how he ever became involved in this, because this was not – had never been – what he tasked himself with. His initial intentions had been good, yet somehow events spiraled so far down at a pace that was too quick to comprehend, even for him.

Amidst the pandemonium, the fledgling currently under his supervision got himself in an accident as well. Castiel was trapped in a ring of holy fire. The flames had devoured a wooden shelf that happened to store the right ingredients for concocting the special oil; when the shelf crumbled, the jars broke and spilled their contents onto the ground, and it did not take long for the fire to slither along. Since it had been unintentionally made, the ring was not in a perfect shape but, in spite of that, it was enough to render the fledgling helpless.

Michael wondered why he even went this far to help him.

Castiel was scared, and he had every right to be. Not only was he trapped, but there was also another shelf high above him – holding the same properties for holy oil – that was steadily being consumed by the flames. If that shelf gave way, the ingredients would catch fire on the way down as they pass the burning walls. If that would transpire, Castiel would be directly hit since the imperfect ring of holy fire was so cramped that he would have no means of escape. In that case, it would be instant death for him, because no matter the manifestation, fledglings would be killed if they ever so much as touch a spark of holy fire.

Michael wondered if he should help him, one more time, despite all the trouble Castiel had caused, all the lives that he had scarred.

The upper shelf creaked precariously and Castiel stared at Michael, wordlessly begging the archangel to release him from his fiery prison. Tears, shining fifty times brighter than the flames, began to trickle out of the fledgling's blue eyes.

Michael wondered if he should rescue Castiel, the brother who acted so much like Lucifer.

O_x

**Earlier**

The time came once again when the newest additions of Heaven were to be given their titles, their lifelong purpose in creation. Each fledgling would have to be known specifically for something when they become full-grown angels. Angel of Light, Angel of Vengeance, Angel of Laughter, Angel of Creativity, Angel of Triumph, and so on. A fledgling's potential must be discovered in order for their title to be bestowed upon. Since every fledgling was unique, the same should go for their designation; the more domains the angels had under them, the better the forces of Heaven were.

Traditionally, the sacred task fell to God. Lately, however, it was Michael's job to decipher the fledglings' capabilities and ascertain that they receive proper guidance. The responsibility came with being the oldest among the angels, and since by now he ought to be fairly familiar with all of his brothers and sisters. Of course, Michael took over for his Father without question.

He was inside a chamber as cavernous as an ocean of Earth and he sat in the very center of it. The place was huge because every possible forte of a fledgling had to be considered and accommodated, such as a knack for speed or acrobatics, a talent for fantastic transformation, a gift for manipulating nature, or any other impressive feat.

Michael had recently finished another consultation and, so far, he was pleased to know that nearly half a million fledglings were going to serve their Father quite well in the future. Albeit it would take a bit of time and practice to hone their skills to perfection, Michael could not have asked for better siblings.

"Next," he announced to the gigantic door where, on the other side, a couple of hundred more fledglings were waiting to be admitted inside. Michael glanced at his list of names. "Castiel." he called out.

The door remained shut for some time, and when Michael was starting to wonder if the fledgling in question even heard him (and it was impossible to turn a deaf ear to an archangel), the door was gradually pushed forward until a sliver of an opening was visible. Regardless, after waiting for a moment, no one stepped inside, yet Michael could feel the fledgling's presence just behind the door, and his Grace was radiating sheer tentativeness.

"Come, little one. Time is precious." urged Michael.

There was a faint whimper on the opposite end – no doubt a sign of fearful reluctance – before Castiel went in. He was a tiny thing, much smaller compared to the other fledglings, but his light shone brighter than the rest of them. His form reminded Michael of a sharp bit of blue diamond surrounded by duller stones, and Michael could not help himself in being slightly intrigued.

In his timid manner, Castiel approached Michael, and throughout his short trip, he was caught between the disorienting awe most fledglings would experience whenever in the proximity of an archangel and nervousness for his own sake. Once Castiel was standing in front of him, it took him a few seconds to remember to bow to his presence, and he performed the gesture in awkward haste.

"Now, Castiel, what are you good at?" asked Michael, trying to be as nonthreatening as possible.

Another moment of hesitance. "Nothing, sir." said Castiel shyly.

This was the first time a fledgling ever answered that, and for them to believe that God had made a mistake in some way was almost blasphemy. "Surely there's something. Our Father wouldn't create you without the bestowal of a gift or talent." he said.

Castiel's wings twitched inward as a need to hide himself. "I don't think I have one." he muttered.

"Nonsense." said Michael, and perhaps his voice was a tad loud because Castiel retreated a step. He studied the fledgling to see if there were any visible attributes (besides his light) that suggested an unrecognized talent or so, albeit he found not a trace. "Perhaps some experimentation is required." Michael proposed.

He put some distance in between them and unfurled his wings from where they were tucked away behind his back. The action brought an explosion of a supernova in the chamber and, for one heartbeat, it was like the two of them were in the complex, shimmering webbings of the universe. Castiel ogled at the spectacle in shock and nearly fell over in its magnificence.

"Knock me down." ordered Michael. The reason why he spread out his wings was to make him as big a target as possible; he would be more open to any attack this way. When Castiel looked at him as if he was being commanded to break every law in Heaven, Michael gave him an encouraging, if not challenging, little smile. "Go ahead. Try to knock me down. Give me the most powerful blast you can muster." he said.

Castiel made a feeble noise that resembled a whimper, and it was obvious that he was frightened to do anything to an archangel, let alone Michael. However, since he was under orders, he had no choice but to obey. He very reluctantly got into a fighting stance and prepared to harness his energy within his Grace. After a couple of seconds, Castiel released a ball of energy and threw it at Michael… though it ended up landing halfway and quickly fizzled out. The chamber was draped in awkward silence for a while.

"Needs work. Maybe you're more equipped for dealing with the elements." commented Michael. He folded his wings and approached Castiel. "Produce any weather pattern of your choosing."

Now, Castiel seemed more uncertain rather than terrified, and Michael took that as an improvement. There was an expression of confusion on him which implied he could not decide what to conjure that would be impressive enough to please an archangel.

After a short while, Castiel started creating a miniature puff of cloud that changed from white to gray, as if it, too, was having difficulties in what state it should be in. The cloud soon took on a gray hue and a mild drizzle was produced the instant the cloud had settled. Judging from its outward appearance, the cloud looked fine; however, Michael wanted to test if it was internally stable.

Michael made a little tornado at a size similar to Castiel's rain cloud and sent it toward the fledgling's creation. The objective was to check if the cloud's structure would prove durable against a threat, such as winds ripping through the air. The tornado and the cloud collided, and their friction brought about sparks of would-be lightning and weak pulses of aerial shockwave.

Castiel did his best to maintain the cloud's shape, but the cloud's edges were rapidly being shredded. Before long, the cloud was obliterated and the extra pressure from the tornado sent Castiel to the floor. Immediately, Michael erased the tornado and went to see if his brother had sustained any damages, which, thankfully, he did not. Only when Castiel managed to get up did Michael choose to speak again.

"What about setting the stars ablaze? Do you believe yourself capable of such a feat?" asked Michael. Stars were a complicated matter to most angels, but to the few who were able to produce them effortlessly belonged to a highly-privileged category.

The developing misery on Castiel's face dissipated, which allowed a bit of hope and fascination light up his eyes. To better help him, Michael crouched down until he could meet the level of Castiel's gaze. Initially, Castiel retracted and was fearful at such an act, like he was a fragile rabbit who was wary of anything that attempted to be near him. Michael soothed his brother by extending his open palm at him and letting a fraction of his Grace warm him over. Once Castiel had calmed down, Michael used the same small portion of Grace to show the fledgling the process of building a star. After observing for some time, Castiel dared to slowly copy his example.

"That's it, that's it…" said Michael. He nimbly flicked a strand of light to the side, and Castiel followed. He twisted a bubble of heat and dropped it into the core, Castiel did the same. For a moment, Michael thought that this was it, that he had found Castiel's field of expertise…

Then Castiel's infant star wavered and its radiance exploded in a manner similar to a popped bubble.

Castiel stared at his shattered work in dejection and Michael spared him a pitying glance. "What am I to do with you?" he sighed.

"I'm sorry, sir." said Castiel. There was a notable quiver in his voice and his form unconsciously trembled along with it. He had his head bowed so low that his face was no longer seen.

Michael scrutinized him very carefully. Castiel had been the lone fledgling to ever undergo a bit of trial and error, in the entire history of Heaven. The other fledglings knew exactly what they were capable of, what they wanted, how they saw themselves. Castiel was proving to be very… different from the rest, and that unnerved Michael somewhat because he knew another angel who was unlike the others. And he liked to think of that angel as less as possible nowadays.

"How many more fledglings are outside?" Michael asked loudly. He had his sight set on the region beyond the chamber's ceiling and waited.

*NINE HUNDRED FIFTY-EIGHT.* spoke the Metatron.

"Less than a thousand. That's a consolation." commented Michael. He spared a fleeting look at Castiel, who seemed on the brink of tears and was drowning in his flood of self-imposed shame. "Tell them that their counseling for individual designations will be postponed until further notice. One of our brothers is in dire need of my guidance and I will only move on when he has found his title." announced Michael.

Stunned, Castiel's head snapped up and he strived to rein in his unshed tears. "Sir…" he gasped quietly.

"Send them my apologies as well." added Michael.

*AS YOU COMMAND.* spoke the Metatron.

"I-I'm not important enough for you to extend your time on me." said Castiel.

"It's my policy. I must finish a whole session before focusing on another sibling. I can't break my own rule." said Michael sternly. Despite the fact that this would cause a massive delay, he knew taking on this task was an absolute necessary. "Besides, our Father never created anyone who wasn't important." said Michael, breaking his somber façade with a more caring tone. He loved all of his siblings, and to exclude even one of them was like to gain a critical slash from a sword.

Michael chuckled at Castiel's wonder-filled expression before making a move to slip out of the chamber's secret exit, to avoid startling the fledglings still outside. "Follow me."

TBC