A/N: This AU is way different than any I've ever done before. It has an extra fantasy twist where an angel's grace takes the form of a spirit animal. It all started with a piece of fan art, and I wish ff would allow links, but if you google "dahliasheng hannah wolf grace" it should come up under images. Anyway, the art made me wonder what Cas's spirit animal/patronus would be, and then the muse decided to write an entire world around it.

So a lot of things are different (but a lot the same!). It's kind of a combination of the End!verse and the alternate reality 29Pieces and I created in our post 12x23 fic, "Into The Breach." I had a lot of fun playing with this new world and the mythology, and I hope you enjoy it!

Also, the style is a little different, with shorter fics making up "episodes" in the greater arc. I'll be posting each episode separately. This first one only has two chapters, but future ones range from 3-4.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Thank you to 29Pieces for beta reading and for some stunning art to go with this series!

THEN

And God created man and beasts in the image of angels, whom He set as protectors over His wondrous works.

...

The announcement resounded throughout Heaven—demonic agents were gathering to open a Devil's Gate, thereby unleashing Hell on earth and starting the Apocalypse. Castiel assembled with his brothers and sisters, prepared to stop it.

"Stand down!" a booming voice reverberated through the pearly halls. Zachariah appeared on the dais. "The Apocalypse will happen."

Hushed whispers rippled through the stunned crowd. Castiel stared in dismay.

"What?" Anna spoke up, pushing her way forward. "Why? The Apocalypse will destroy the earth and its inhabitants, our charges!"

"Do not question the will of Heaven," Zachariah snapped. "Our job here is to win the war. You will prepare for battle," he addressed the rest of them. "But a later one."

Castiel was still reeling as the assembly was dismissed. How could this be?

He sought out Anna, his commander and friend whom he trusted. If she had doubts about this as he did, perhaps she could help him make sense of it. But he found her sneaking out of Heaven.

"You're considering disobedience?" he asked incredulously. Everything he had ever known and believed in was being shattered in one day.

"I don't believe it is God's will to stand by and do nothing. Please don't try to stop me, Castiel."

He only hesitated for a moment. "I will go with you."

...

The Devil's Gate opened, a great fissure erupting up from the bowels of the earth. Demons spilled forth in swarms of hideous visages. Castiel became separated from Anna in the fighting. But two angels were not enough against legions.

Screams rent the air as the humans fled. Castiel vaguely noticed two young men fighting back against the demons. They worked in tandem, slaying beasts while urging the townsfolk to evacuate. The oldest pressed forward into the onslaught, gun in one hand and machete in the other.

"Dean!" the other one shouted.

"Get them out of here, Sam!"

Children screamed.

Castiel watched the brilliant burn of that brave aura fall under another wave of demons. A hellhound burst forth from the Pit and latched onto the hunter. His screams seemed louder than the others as he was dragged back through the gate and into Hell.

But the last of the humans made it into their vehicles and escaped.

...

The End had begun.

Castiel found shelter where he could nurse his battle wounds. He had no idea where Anna was. From inside a small hollow, Castiel watched the sky crack and split. What would he do now? He couldn't return to Heaven, and he'd failed in his duty.

But he didn't want to give up. Castiel didn't know who was truly giving the orders in Heaven, but he still had faith in his original mandate. And so he would continue to fight to protect humanity.

Starting with rescuing that righteous soul from the depths of Hell.

...

NOW

Castiel pulled the pickup truck up to the edge of the campgrounds and eased it to a stop. It was a cumbersome method of travel compared to the currents of the ether, but it was the most efficient when it came time to deliver supplies to the human settlement at Camp Chitaqua. The back of the truck bed was stacked high with boxes and crates, things that would take multiple trips if Castiel were to transport them on his person through the ethereal slipstreams.

He and the cohort of angels he belonged to—a renegade garrison that was tying to stop the Apocalypse, as opposed to the rest of Heaven—picked up items where they could when they were out on missions. They were able to travel places these human survivors could not, such as demon infested cities, or cities that were still intact but under heavy guard. Once enough supplies were accumulated, Castiel then delivered the shipment to the humans he'd taken as his charges.

He turned off the truck's engine and watched the sentry break from his post at the wood gate to go report Castiel's arrival. Camp Chitaqua was a small settlement, with ten cabins spaced evenly throughout it. An eleventh was currently under construction on the west end. It awed Castiel that the human spirit was so resilient that people found a way to survive. They had lost most of the conveniences of their modern technology, and yet had rediscovered their ancestors' ability to build and shape with the most simplest of hand tools.

Castiel was proud to be their protector.

A few minutes later, two different mortals emerged from the central cabin and made their way across the grounds toward the gate. Castiel pushed his door open and exited the truck.

"Hey, Cas," the slightly shorter man greeted with a smile.

Castiel nodded to him. "Dean." Then to the second. "Sam."

Sam was taller and had longer hair than his brother, yet was the younger of the two. He wore a brown jacket over blue flannel, while Dean wore a dark green coat over a lighter shade of green flannel. They were very partial to the flannel, and had even tried to convince Castiel to change his attire in accordance. Apparently, his black shirt, black jacket, and equally dark jeans he always wore made him "look like a ninja," as Dean said. But Castiel liked the dark colors. And he did not like plaid.

"I brought supplies," he continued.

"Thanks, man," Dean said, going around to the back of the truck and flipping down the tailgate.

Sam let out a low whistle at the contents. "Wow. We really appreciate this, Cas. We were starting to run low on some things."

Then it was good Castiel had come when he did, before they were forced to venture out in search of necessities. Not that the Winchesters weren't capable; their father had raised them to hunt monsters. But that was back when vampires, werewolves, and ghosts were the worst things out there. And half the men and women in the camp did not have their same level of training to provide sufficient backup.

"I'm afraid Balthazar decided to keep the alcohol," Castiel informed them.

Dean's brows shot up dubiously. "What, all of it?"

"Yes." Castiel let out a disapproving huff. "He's decided his new motto is hedonism."

The Winchester brothers exchanged a somewhat pinched look.

Castiel frowned. "I didn't think you would be concerned with such things, given the circumstances."

Honestly, he didn't think Balthazar should be entertaining himself with such pursuits, either. But the other angel had argued that he was simply basking in appreciation for one of man's many creations, like how Castiel enjoyed man's works of literature. Though, in Castiel's opinion, they were not even close to the same thing.

"No, it's not that," Sam said. "It's just, we sometimes use the hard liquor as a disinfectant when treating wounds."

"And pain reliever," Dean added grimly. "Gotta save the stronger drugs for emergencies."

Castiel blinked. Oh. "My apologies, then. I'll make sure you get it next time."

He doubted there was any left from this last stock.

"Tell Balthazar he can keep the wine," Dean said. "But the hard stuff, like whiskey, we could really use."

"Of course." Castiel would make a note of that. And he would look into what medicines should be added to their list of items to keep a lookout for.

The Winchesters continued to give a cursory inventory of the supplies, sifting through canned vegetables and beans, clothes and blankets, batteries and camping gear.

"Hey, look, toilet paper," Sam said with a grin, tossing a six-pack to his brother.

Dean caught it easily and smirked. "Bobby will be thrilled." He stacked the package back on one of the boxes. "More ammo, awesome."

"There are some angel bullets in there as well," Castiel said.

Some demons could be taken out with regular lead bullets, but many were impervious to them, and so Castiel had started fashioning ammunition out of celestial steel that the humans could adapt to their weaponry. Since angelic weapons were made by compressing the energy of the ether, the process of making something as small as bullets wasn't difficult, just time consuming. Which was why Castiel couldn't keep them stocked to the brim with the advantage.

Sam found the small wooden box with the silver bullets and slid the top open. "Oh, this is even more perfect timing," he said. "Dean and I were just about to head out on a hunt."

Castiel canted his head. "What kind of hunt?"

"Hellhound," Dean said, voice instantly taking on a hard edge.

Sam gave his brother a subtle look of concern. "It's been circling the area for the past week," he explained to Castiel. "Better we take it out before it gets too close to camp."

That was probably wise. Castiel and the other angels had helped ward the campsite, hiding it from enemy eyes of both demonic and angelic nature. But it did not shield against a hound's nose, and hell beasts were one of the few that once they got a scent for prey, nothing would stop them from pursuing it.

Castiel shifted his focus to the sudden change in Dean's demeanor, which was now stiff and corded, his handling of the supplies rougher as he stacked items back in their places. Despite the resolute front, there was a reflection of haunted memory in his eyes.

"Would you like some assistance?" Castiel asked.

Dean startled. "Yeah? I mean, you don't have anywhere you need to be?"

"Not at present. I'd like to go with you."

Some of that tension in Dean's shoulders seemed to loosen, and his mouth quirked with a fraction of a relieved smile. "Yeah, okay. Cool. I'll just go tell the others to come start unloading stuff while we're gone."

With a half hesitant nod, he headed back toward the cabins.

Sam drew his handgun and released the magazine into his palm, then started swapping out the lead bullets with the celestial ones Castiel had brought. "Thanks for offering," he said softly. "I know one hellhound is a small job for you, and it's not like Dean can't handle it…"

"I understand, Sam," Castiel assured him.

He knew better than the younger Winchester what horrors Dean had gone through after a hound had dragged him into the Pit; Castiel had seen them first-hand when he'd laid siege to Hell to rescue the human. He'd only meant to do what he thought was right, given that Heaven's orders were no longer righteous. But it had somehow led to him becoming friends with the brave young man, and Castiel had developed a fierce protectiveness for both Dean and Sam since then.

"And I enjoy spending time with you and your brother," he added, somewhat self-consciously. "Though, the other angels in my garrison think that's strange."

Sam offered him a small smile and a shrug. "Well, Dean and I like having you around, too. You know, you're pretty much his only friend."

Castiel furrowed his brow. "I find that hard to believe. Dean is a very inspiring leader."

Castiel saw how the people at Camp Chitaqua looked to the older Winchester for guidance and assurance in these precarious times. To Sam, too, in many ways, and the younger Winchester was more or less an equal when it came to running the camp. But Dean was the figurehead.

"Leaders have followers, not friends," Sam replied. He finished loading the magazine and snapped it back into place in the gun. Then he racked the slide to manually slot the first bullet into the chamber so the weapon was ready. "With me and you, he gets to be himself."

Castiel considered that for a moment. He had never commanded a garrison himself, but looking back, he could recall how his captain, Anna, would bear herself in front of her soldiers, while in private, she revealed her softer side to Castiel, the one that shared his love of humanity and creation and expressed doubts where a leader was supposed to have none.

"I understand," he said.

Sam smiled again, then looked past the truck to where Dean was returning with a handful of people.

Castiel backed away from the vehicle several spaces; he knew most of the humans here preferred to give him a wide berth. It'd been almost a year since the Apocalypse started and the Earth had been ravaged by demons—and angels. Castiel was part of only a small faction who believed in protecting humans, so he understood why most viewed him with mistrust.

"Tell Bobby we'll be back by dark," Dean said. "And I expect an inventory of every single item on this truck. By category."

"What category is this supposed to go under?" a woman spoke up, reaching into the back of the truck bed and lifting a small grip with a mass of leather tails flowing out one end.

Dean turned to arch a brow at Castiel.

The angel gazed back at him blankly. "I believe that was picked up by Gabriel. …It looks like a weapon," he offered.

Dean rolled his eyes to the sky. "Just…use your best judgement," he said, and slung the strap of his rifle over his shoulder. Then he nodded to Sam and Castiel. "Ready?"

"Loaded and got the extra angel bullets, too," Sam answered, patting his jacket pocket where he'd stashed the small wooden box.

Castiel didn't need anything aside from himself.

"Okay," Dean said with what sounded like forced cheerfulness. "Let's go hunting."

Since the hellhound had been spotted within a couple of miles of camp, Dean wasn't going to waste gas driving out there when they could hike.

That was one thing about the Apocalypse that really dampened Dean's spirits—he missed his Baby. Oddly enough, the other stuff like the monsters and sleeping in run-down places wasn't all that different from the life he and Sam had lived on the road, hunting. Actually, the cabins at Camp Chitaqua were better than some of the dives he'd stayed in before.

But having to permanently park the Impala out back and cover her with a tarp…that hurt. She just wasn't practical to take on missions, though, even when they did drive; that beautiful purr was too noisy and she didn't get the best mileage unless Dean was able to take meticulous care of her engine—not possible anymore with their limited resources.

And so the longest hunting companion he'd had other than Sam was retired. It really was the end of the world.

Things could have been worse, though. Dean could have still been trapped in Hell. There was no way he should have gotten out. That hellhound had sunk its fangs into his leg and hauled him down into that hole so deep that the memory of sun and fresh air had turned to ash on his skin and lungs. Every breath burned with sulfur and brimstone. The inhuman shrieks felt like glass in his ears. He had never felt such terror. Or pain. He'd thought the hellhound would eat him alive, but then he'd been delivered to a demon and thrown on a rack…

Dean wrenched himself away from those memories. He wasn't there anymore.

All because Castiel, an angel, had made the crazy decision that he was worth saving. Cas hadn't known Dean from Jack, and yet this terrifying, ethereal being had braved Hell to bring him out. It defied all reason and imagination.

And Dean would forever be indebted to him. For a lot of things.

He glanced at his unlikely friend. For a fearsome creature of divine might, Cas was also a weird, dorky little guy who could quote Shakespeare yet hadn't seen a single movie or TV show since the invention of film. Dean had once tried to sit him down to watch some DVDs of Dr. Sexy Dean had found, but the electricity in the place they'd been squatting in had gone out before they'd finished the first episode. Cas, the smug bastard, had then pointed out that books didn't have that problem.

God, Dean missed television. He missed being able to sit back and unwind with mindless entertainment. Books required concentration, and were more apt to put him to sleep. Still, at some point he'd probably need a hobby outside of construction and hunting. And, you know, fighting to survive.

"Over here," Sam called.

Dean and Cas made their way over to where Sam was crouched down and looking at something in the dirt. It was a paw print, as large as Dean's hand, and charred around the edges. Dean's stomach did an unpleasant flip as red eyes and molten veins flashed through his mind.

Get a grip. We can take care of one measly hellhound. Especially with Cas along.

The angel knelt down across from Sam and examined the tracks. "It's recent," he said. "Probably this morning." Cas canted his head and looked off in the direction the prints were heading. Then he stood. "This way."

Dean and Sam fell into step behind him, keeping their eyes peeled on the ground for signs of the hellhound as they went. The tracks were clear and easy to follow, as were the broken branches the beast had barreled through.

They followed the markings for half a mile before coming upon a farm. The fields were fallow and there was a hush over the area that signaled nothing living was nearby. Well, nothing earthly, anyway.

"There," Cas said quietly, and Dean stiffened.

Along the opposite side of the far field, a huge black dog came loping through the dead and shriveled corn stalks. Even from this distance, Dean could see the fulvous veins coursing like lava across the sinuous muscles. Hellhounds didn't exactly have flesh and fur.

The beast headed toward the barn and slipped through the open door.

Dean slipped his rifle off his shoulder and held it at the ready. "Okay, let's make this quick."

As they broke from the tree line and started across the field, Dean had to remind himself that there was no gaping hole into Hell nearby. Yeah, the prospect of confronting a hellhound made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, but it wasn't like he was going to get dragged back into the Pit. And he was properly armed this time. All they had to do was go in there, shoot the thing, and call it a day.

Then, halfway to the barn, Cas came to an abrupt stop. "Wait."

Dean halted, throwing a perplexed look at the angel. Cas's gaze had narrowed sharply on the barn, and a second later, Dean realized why. The hellhound poked its head back out through the open door—followed by two more hounds.

Dean heard his brother suck in a sharp gasp. Shit, it wasn't just one hellhound; it was a pack.

A growl issued from the opposite direction, and Dean whipped around so fast he nearly stumbled. Three more hounds were slinking across the field to circle around them.

"Dean, Sam, stand back," Cas ordered.

Dean sidestepped a few paces to give Cas space, keeping his rifle up and pointed at the incoming hell beasts. Cas stood with feet apart, chin down and eyes blazing with intensity. And then those eyes began to glow.

A blue aura rippled along the outline of Cas's form before surging upward into the contours of a great cat. The swirling sapphire and silver grace roared as the panther flared to life, slamming its paws on the ground with enough force to shake the foundation. Inside the glowing aurora of spirit armor, Cas's human form stared down the hellhounds in challenge.

One of them let out a baying call, and all six charged at once with snarls and gnashing teeth. Cas swung one arm out, and backhanded one of the beasts with a swipe of the panther's paw. It went flying through the air with a yelp.

The other hounds darted in, some going low, some high. One leaped onto the panther's back and sunk its fangs into the diaphanous grace. The cat reared back. Cas jerked around and grabbed at the dog's flank to rip it off with the panther's claws.

Another hound dove under the feline's legs to get at Cas in the center, but Sam fired his gun two times in quick succession, and the hellhound squealed as celestial steel ripped through its hide. Cas spun in time to kick the wounded hound away from him.

Dean finished it off with a head shot, then swung his rifle around and aimed at another mutt just getting up from Cas having thrown it.

One of the beasts broke from the mob going after the angel, and charged toward Dean and Sam. Dean tried to shoot it, but the animal was too fast and had launched itself straight at them.

The panther came lashing out of nowhere and clamped its crackling jaws around the hellhound midair. Static prickled Dean's skin, yet he dashed forward and rolled under the cat, landing in a crouch and firing at another hound coming in behind Cas.

An enraged howl rent the air, followed by the sizzle of sulfur. Dean turned to find one of the larger hounds huffing and puffing, the molten veins of its blood beginning to glow hotter. The hellhound opened its gaping maw, prepared to unleash a belching eruption of brimstone.

Dean ducked behind Cas, as did Sam. A stream of fire shot out from the beast's throat, straight at them. Cas thrust a palm out and the panther's wispy grace pulsed with a surge of energy. The panther hunkered down, tucking its head in just as the fire slammed into its forehead. Dean felt the aura near him ripple from the impact, but Cas's shield held. And when the hellhound was out of breath, Cas raised his head for the panther to strike, grabbing the hell beast by its jugular and flinging it through the air. It hit the side of the barn and didn't get up.

Dean twisted around in search of more, but the hellhounds were all dead, the lava in their surface veins having all dimmed and cooled into igneous cracks. The grace panther melted into mist that gradually receded back into Cas, until he looked like a regular guy again.

Dean slowly straightened. "Really glad you came with us," he uttered.

Cas roved his gaze around the corpses. "So am I."

"I'll check the barn," Sam said, and headed for the door.

Dean ran a hand over his hair. "Guess we should burn these. I'll find something to make a fire pit. Can you start piling the bodies in one place?"

Cas nodded. "Of course."

Dean started scanning the ground for large rocks, but most of the area was plain dirt and dried grass. He went into the barn; maybe there was something metal lying around they could use. The putrid smell of decay hit him like a sledgehammer.

"Ungh, what died in here," he grunted.

Sam was standing at the opening of an animal stall, face scrunched up and looking a little green. "What didn't," he replied grimly.

Dean went over to look, only to wish he hadn't. There was a huge mound of carcasses in the pen ranging from small animals to a coyote, to several humans. And what looked like a completely eaten horse. Despite the smell, these kills couldn't have been more than a couple of weeks old, which coincided with the hellhound sightings. At least they'd gotten to this pack before it had started hunting closer to camp and picking them off one by one.

There was a small zipping noise, followed by a muffled thud and sounds of a scuffle outside. Exchanging an alert look with Sam, both of them wordlessly drew their guns and darted back toward the door. They stopped at the opening and peeked through it. Dean's heart leaped into his throat.

Cas was on his knees, some burly dude standing behind him with one meaty arm around Cas's throat and the other hand holding an angel blade over his chest. A second guy was standing in front of them, his back to the barn.

"Well, well, well, Castiel," he said in a sing-song voice. "Playing with the dogs, are you?"

Cas glared defiantly at his captors. "Last I checked, even Heaven won't abide fiends from the Pit to walk the Earth."

"But you're not with Heaven, are you, Castiel? You're a traitor."

Dean looked at his brother and made a beckoning motion with his hand. Carefully and silently, Sam reached into his pocket to pull out the box of angel bullets, the only weapon that would work against those beings capable of creating them. Dean reached across the door opening to take it, wincing when some of the loose bullets rattled slightly in their container.

"Zachariah's going to be thrilled when he finds out the disturbance we saw was you," the angel went on.

Dean fumbled to swap out the bullets in his handgun. He flicked a frantic look at the angels, afraid they might take off any second, and caught Cas's gaze looking directly toward the barn. The other two angels didn't seem to notice, as Cas had his head angled down in the chokehold. But the blazing message in Cas's eyes was clear—don't.

Dean clenched his jaw. Like hell he was gonna stand by and not do anything. But before he and Sam even had the opportunity to come out guns blazing, the air rippled and bent, and all three angels disappeared with a tiny pop into the ether.

A/N: Be sure to check out 29-pieces-of-me on deviantart for a stunning sketch of Cas and his spirit animal!