Chapter Text
He watched her often. It was easy to get lost in her presence. He'd never let himself disturb her by making his presence known, but there was something about her. Something that stirred something unknown within him. He knew that it was wrong to admire one of his charges so closely. He was expected to keep his distance and he had, most of the time, but there is something about this former champion of Earth that pulled him in again and again.
She still had all the grace of a warrior as she passed through the garden unaware of his ever watchful eyes. It was beautiful how her delicate hands brushed the petals of the flowers in the garden. He marveled at how gentle her hands were despite the ferocity they were once used for. It was how her eyes shimmered as she delighted in the simplest pleasures. It was how her face rested in a gentle smile. She no longer needed to etch it into the solid mask of bravery.
His wings twitched as he found himself once again wishing that he could be there next to her. He longed to appear beside her. To make his presence known and take her hand in his own and lead her through the garden. He stopped himself before he could get lost in the fantasy, resisting every urge. She deserved her peace; she'd earned it.
XXXXXX
"Buffy Summers," Micheal said her name and Castiel shuddered.
"Does it have to be her?"
Raphael's steely gaze met him immediately, "Who are you to question Father's will, Castiel?"
He knew it was his place to stay silent, but every inch of his being screamed out to protect her. He spoke up again, but his objection was cut short as Michael spoke.
"It must be her Castiel. To remove a champion from hell, we also must remove one from Heaven. If it is true that the end of days are approaching, Buffy Summers will be a most valuable asset."
"But we already stopped the witch's attempt to resurrect—" Castiel tried in vain.
"That was necessary to prevent a cataclysmic ending to the slayer line, but now if we don't send her back there will be too few champions to stand in the way of the coming darkness."
XXXXXX
The garrison was readying themselves. They had not stormed the gates of hell in a millennia. The mission was dangerous, but it was not the risks of retrieving Dean Winchester that had Castiel worried. No, it was the soul of his beautiful blonde charge.
The cruelty of sending her back to Earth was immeasurable. Souls who'd experienced heaven weren't meant to go back to Earth. Buffy had been dead for two-thousand six-hundred and seventy-six Earth days, but significantly more time had passed for her.
Her friends and family were all leading drastically different lives than when she'd thrown herself into the portal to save them and the world. He worried about how they'd react when she returned to them. Her sister was now two years older than Buffy had been when she'd died. It was clear to Castiel that her return would be filled with pain and suffering, yet none of his brethren seemed to care.
Castiel wished he could be the one to deliver her home and greet her back to the living.
However, that job would be handled by his former flight command, headed by Ishim. Without overstepping his bounds he hoped that his conversation with Benjamin would result in the utmost care being taken during her return.
He wanted to ease her transition back in any way that he could, but he and his command were tasked with the retrieval of Dean Winchester. Castiel had glowered when he'd learned of his task. This other champion had gotten himself sent to hell and now Buffy was paying the price to save him from the fiery pits. A part of him knew that if Buffy had been asked, she would have volunteered. She'd do it to save this unworthy man and the world no matter the toll.
"Cassie?" Balthazar questioned from beside him, stirring him from his thoughts, "This seems like an all new kind of stupid, doesn't it?"
"You're close to blasphemy," Castiel cautioned, attempting to cover up his own doubts and questions, "We are not to question the word of God."
"Oh now Cassie, don't tell me you're not worried about your little golden slayer. The way I—"
"You eavesdrop too much Balthazar," Castiel reprimanded passively.
Balthazar tilted his head and observed Castiel for a moment longer, "True, but it has its uses. I've learned many things. Interesting tid-bits that would—"
"Enough," Castiel ordered, "This isn't the time or place. Ready yourself for the battle that lies ahead."
XXXXXX
Castiel led his garrison through the gates of hell. The demons fought back furiously. Several of his brethren had already fallen, but their unyielding approach could not be stopped. Castiel was caked in blood, but he continued on as the sounds of the battle fell behind him. It was his job to retrieve Dean Winchester. He was to raise him from perdition before the first seal could be broken.
Castiel heard Balthazar scream in pain and then there was a flashing light. He paused briefly, grieving only for a moment, but he had to go on. He couldn't fail, not when others were already paying such heavy prices. He entered the cell in which Dean was being held, but he was no longer chained; instead, Dean was mercilessly whipping a tortured soul chained in his place.
A wrath Castiel had never experienced flowed through him as he reached Dean Winchester; the urge to smite him out of existence was great, but he held back. Despite the seal being broken Dean was still required on Earth. It was only the will of God that allowed him to continue to save Dean Winchester.
Castiel felt a great pleasure when his touch seared an angelic brand on Dean's tainted soul. This fallen champion deserved the pain. Castiel was keenly aware as he lifted Dean's soul from the depths of hell that as soon as they left hell's plane, Buffy would be ripped from heaven. With the first seal broken, Buffy's fate had been sealed. She would not only need to be a champion of Earth, but one of heaven. In the coming days her pain and suffering would be far worse than anyone should be asked to experience, but there was nothing he could do now to stop it.
XXXXXX
Two champions awoke struggling to breathe in the confines of their own graves. They breathlessly cried out for help, but there was no one to help them.
Dean quickly found his trusted zippo lighter in his pocket and lit it and that was when he noticed he was in a rickety pine box. As he shifted dirt began to fall on his face and he knew he needed to act. He lashed out with a series of punches splintering several of the boards. He winced as he felt his knuckles splitting, but he ignored the pain as he yanked on the broken boards above him. He had only a moment of celebration before the dirt began to fill in his coffin. Dean took one last deep breath before he pulled on yet another board breaking it loose which allowed him the space to pull himself out.
Meanwhile Buffy remained in complete darkness. Her vision was blurred and she couldn't identify her surroundings. She reached out in a panic. Her hands met the fabric of her coffin's lining. She pushed against it, but it didn't pull away, instead her hand felt the cold hardness of the coffin's lid behind it and then she knew. She was alive, buried in her grave. This had been one of her greatest fears ever since Billy had locked them in their own worst nightmares and she'd been forced to dig her way out of her own grave.
Buffy tried to breathe, but each pull of the limited air burned her lungs. She knew she didn't have long and she frantically began to tear at the fabric. It tore away quickly and as Buffy's nails began to scratch against the wood she steeled herself. She knew she needed to focus every bit of her strength to push against the lid. She struck out. It moved and groaned, but it wouldn't open against the weight of the dirt above her. Buffy took one last breath as she punched several holes in the coffin's lid allowing her to break open a section large enough to pull herself through as the dirt filled in her coffin.
Simultaneously two sets of hands pierced through the dirt of their graves. Frantically, their hands reached around trying to find the leverage to pull themselves out. Both broke through their graves gasping for air.
As Buffy pulled herself from the ground she swayed on her feet. Her vision was blurry and the light of the sun rising pierced her eyes. She raised her hands to shield her eyes and that was when she noticed the blood and dirt caked on her hands. Buffy shuddered in pain and again cried out for help. This time she was met with a high-pitched piercing sound. She let out a scream of pain as she covered her ears and fell to her knees. As the sound ceased Buffy once again opened her eyes and despite her blurred vision she could finally make out the stone next to her. It was her own gravestone.
Tears flooded Buffy's eyes as she remembered the feelings of peace and warmth. What had she done to be sent back? Her mind was fuzzy, but as she fought to clear it suddenly she thought of Giles. He always knew what to do. She forced herself to her feet and made her way out the graveyard.
Dean laid on the ground catching his breath for several minutes before he fully opened his eyes. He winced against the bright sun that filled the sky. As he rolled over he noticed the wooden cross that had marked his grave. He found himself instantly grateful that somehow he was no longer in hell until he picked himself up and noticed the ring of fallen trees that had once surrounded his grave in the woods. Dean panicked, what had Sam done?