hadriel | video;

[ The man who appears on screen is wearing white hospital clothes, despite attempts to get him into something a little more him. They're comfortable, he protests. Over this he's wearing a much loved and heavily dry-cleaned (thanks, Dean) beige colored coat, the combination of the two making him look like a businessman - or perhaps a P.I. - who's had a little bit of a mental breakdown. Which...it's not far off from the truth.

In any case, he's sitting in the dark, looking drawn and tired, like he's either been trying very hard not to sleep, or the sleep hasn't been very good. It's a combination of the two, actually. ]

Did you know that human minds are most susceptible to influence when you're dreaming? If you wanted to teach yourselves how to communicate telepathically, for instance, it would be far better to do it when you're sleeping, when your brain isn't fettered by the constant needs of your body. Itching. Twitching. Fidgeting. All its aches and grumbles and complaints. Emotions. Recollections. Listening to other people chatter incessantly. Television. Arousal. You get the idea. It's all very distracting.

[ Seriously. Who let Castiel talk? Like ever.]

And let me tell you, some of those thoughts take up a lot of your time.

I--where was I? Ah. That is to say, I haven't ever slept before. I've visited dreams, of course, but experiencing my own is something else entirely. Something I'd rather avoid, if it's at all possible. So-- [ Deep breath. ] --I was wondering if anyone had any suggestions. Mnemonics, perhaps. The opposite of counting sheep. I'd drink coffee but I'm afraid I've discovered it has much the same effect on me as alcohol, which is to say I'd have to drink most of a plantation in order to have any kind of success.

Your assistance, please. I can't repay you, per se, but... Oh. [ He lifts his hands in front of him, and cups them together, and when he lifts them apart there is a little origami swan between his palms. ] I can do this.

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Who's 'we'? [Steve's brows tug together.] I thought everyone slept.

My kind, the angels. We don't sleep. Vigilance is...well it's sort of what we do.

You're an angel?

[The good Catholic boy inside of him wants to ask for an autograph right about now.]

What happened to your wings?

They're invisible to human eyes. It's probably best that you can't see them.

[Steve looks at him like he's not sure whether he should believe him or not. But there are gods here - even if Steve only believes in the one, he knows that the ones here are something.]

Do you know the archangel Michael?

He's my elder brother. Or, he was. I don't know what's become of him since he fell into Lucifer's Cage, if that's what you're asking.

Do you know Michael?

He what?

[For a moment he looks like his very foundations have been rocked. Steve swallows hard before shaking his head.]

I'm Catholic.

[As if that explains anything. Maybe it does.]

Oh. [ He looks just the tiniest bit guilty for a moment, and then lowers his eyes, nodding slowly. ] Yes, I suppose that would explain it.

You'd know, then, what was written in Revelations. The End of Days, when Lucifer would rise and scorch the Earth, and he would lead his armies against the armies of Heaven. Michael would have commanded those armies, if we hadn't averted the Apocalypse ourselves.

Yeah, I know what was written. I just don't know how it got changed.

It's... Complicated.

I suppose it comes down to the fact that free will was written in. So long as someone was willing to put everything on the line, give anything, even their lives, to prevent it, it was always a possibility.

Your Creator has always ensured you had the tools at your disposal to save yourselves. In Him, in yourselves.

It sounds complicated.

[But free will...Steve can surely appreciate that. And the way he talks about God, the one that Steve believes in, he accepts that too.]

Those willing to do that are real heroes.