"-and the mark on his palm continues to bleed, though it does not seem to weaken him physically," Remiel concluded, standing rigidly before the ornate desk of emerald and sapphire.
Raphael sat perfectly still, his form an adult version of Lucien Winchester - tall, with refined features that carried the same vertical scar beside his right eye.
On his palm, the black jaguar mark existed the same as his vessel's, but merely as an appearance rather than the true curse - though either way none could see it beneath his folded hands.
"The human girl's resurrection remains unexplained," Remiel continued. "The vessels were able to escape with her and the boy before the ritual completed."
"You've said enough," Raphael finally spoke, "Leave me."
Remiel bowed deeply, backing away several steps before turning to exit the chamber. Only when the doors sealed shut did Raphael's perfect composure fracture.
His fingers dug into the marble desk, creating deep fissures in the stone. "False gods," he whispered, the words like venom on his tongue. "Parasites playing at divinity while my Father's creation crumbles."
Rising in a fluid motion, Raphael moved to the vast window overlooking Heaven's expanse. The reflection that greeted him was Lucien as he would be - a man of presence and power - if he survived to maturity.
"I could take a temporary vessel," Raphael mused, pacing the chamber. "It would last mere seconds before combusting, but that would be sufficient to obliterate these presumptuous creatures and their town from existence."
The air around him crackled with energy, small objects rising from surfaces and beginning to disintegrate. A crystal decanter shattered, its fragments suspended in mid-air before turning to dust.
Raphael caught himself, taking a deliberate breath as he straightened his immaculate white toga.
"No," he said to the empty room. "The grand plan requires patience. The path to Paradise demands adherence to the script."
His fingers moved unconsciously through his hair in a gesture of frustration identical to one Lucien often made, though Raphael didn't recognize the similarity.
Moving to a private altar in his chambers, Raphael knelt before an empty pedestal where God once communicated with His archangels. The silence that greeted him was familiar - the same silence that had persisted since his Father's departure.
"You left us with a plan," he whispered in Enochian, the language making the air vibrate with power. "I will see it fulfilled, whatever the cost."
Rising, Raphael approached a mirror-like surface that showed Lucien's current state - sleeping fitfully in a motel bed hundreds of miles from Mystic Falls. The jaguar mark on the boy's palm leaked blood onto the white sheets.
Raphael's expression softened imperceptibly as he touched the image. "The connection is... unfortunate," he admitted to himself. "Vessel and archangel - two halves of a whole."
He recalled long ago when Vessels were merely something Father had recently explained, Michael's immediate warnings - dutiful soldier that he is - about becoming too attached to one's vessel, about maintaining proper distance.
Yet something about this boy - his vessel - stirred protective instincts that were both foreign and disturbing to the archangel.
"This is merely protecting an investment," Raphael rationalized aloud. "A necessary component for what is to come."
Even as the words left his lips, he recognized their partial falsehood. The truth was more complex, more uncomfortable.
Turning away from the image, Raphael made his decision. "Minor intervention is justified," he declared to the empty chamber. "The jaguar mark threatens the vessel's survival, which would inconvenience the plan."
His theory about Lucien's abilities had crystallized over recent observations - when God "died" (Raphael's mistaken belief), the power meant for John Winchester as a vessel had somehow transferred to Lucien.
This, combined with the boy's natural role as his vessel, made him fit be a Prophet, which explained the unusual abilities he demonstrated.
"There can be no other explanation," Raphael stated with archangelic certainty. "The boy is simply manifesting powers meant for his father, filtered through his own psychic ones."
With his course decided, Raphael exited his chambers and walked through Heaven's corridors.
Lesser angels scattered before him, bowing deeply and averting their gazes from his radiance.
None dared question where he went or why - his authority absolute below only Michael's, and Michael himself has long since been distant, and locking himself up in God's throne room, making Raphael Heaven's highest authority at this time.
As he walked, Heaven itself responded to his passage - columns of light rising and falling, pathways rearranging themselves, the very substance of the realm parting before him like water before a ship's prow.
He reached the Gates of Heaven, the massive structures of light and power. The guardian angels stationed there knelt immediately, not daring to look up as he approached.
"Open," Raphael commanded, the single word carrying the weight of creation itself.
The gates swung wide, revealing the vast expanse between Heaven and Earth - the Veil that separated mortal and celestial realms.
Without hesitation, Raphael stepped through, his form changing as he descended, becoming pure light and purpose.
His journey through the layers of creation bent reality around his passage. Lesser spirits fled before him, recognizing power beyond their comprehension. His descent was like a comet, brilliant and terrible, though invisible to mortal eyes.
As he approached Earth's atmosphere, he adjusted his trajectory toward a small motel in western Tennessee, where the Winchesters had stopped after fleeing Mystic Falls.
He could sense Lucien's presence like a beacon - the connection between vessel and archangel allowing him to locate the boy precisely.
Raphael passed through the motel's roof and walls as if they were mist, his celestial form unhindered by physical barriers. He entered the room where Lucien slept, observing the scene with detached interest.
John Winchester slumped in a chair by the window, gun in his lap even in sleep. Dean and Sam shared the other bed, their breathing deep and even. Katherine Pierce was nowhere to be seen, having taken another room to recover from the werewolf venom.
Focusing on Lucien, Raphael saw beyond this reality to the boy's dreamscape. What he observed caused his expression to harden.
Shadowy creatures with razor beaks and talons circled a protective dome of energy that surrounded the sleeping child's consciousness.
These were Rocs, ancient dream predators that fed on fear and trauma, attracted by the bleeding jaguar mark on Lucien's palm.
The mark pulsed with malevolent energy even in sleep, leaking blood that formed a pool beneath Lucien's dreaming form. The Rocs dive-bombed the Force shield repeatedly, causing it to flicker and waver with each impact.
Inside, Lucien relived moments from the ritual - Elena's death, his hand being severed, the gods' mocking laughter - in an endless loop of trauma.
"Parasites," Raphael said coldly. With his mere gaze, he unleashed his power - brilliant emerald-sapphire light that incinerating the dream predators instantly.
The Rocs shrieked as they burned, their forms disintegrating into ash that scattered across the dreamscape.
Once the threats were eliminated, Raphael approached the Force shield surrounding Lucien's consciousness. He studied it with interest, recognizing it as something unfamiliar yet undeniably powerful - one of Father's protections for his Prophet, most likely.
Rather than forcing his way through, he communicated his non-threatening intentions through a gentle touch - a request rather than a demand.
To his mild surprise, the shield responded, recognizing something in him that resonated with Lucien. It parted like a curtain, allowing him entry to the boy's inner dreamscape.
Inside, Raphael found Lucien huddled in a recreation of Bobby Singer's panic room, clutching his bleeding palm to his chest. The archangel approached slowly, studying his vessel with clinical detachment that occasionally slipped to reveal something closer to concern.
"You cannot hear me," Raphael began, his voice echoing strangely in the dreamscape. "Yet I find myself compelled to speak nonetheless."
He circled Lucien's huddled form, observing from different angles like a scientist with a particularly interesting specimen.
"Humans fundamentally misunderstand archangels," he continued. "They see Michael as calm, but he is coldly righteous. They believe Lucifer is simply destructive, but he is beautifully corrupting. They imagine Gabriel as completely sure and righteous, when he desperately sought for justice in an unjust world."
Raphael paused, standing directly before Lucien now.
"And me? They call me the 'Healer,' as if that implies gentleness." A cold smile touched his lips. "They forget that after Michael slays the Dragon, it is I who will destroy this world with a blast from my Horn. And with a second blast, resurrect all souls, and reform the world anew into True Paradise."
He knelt to Lucien's level, studying the boy's face - his own face, in many ways.
"Creation and destruction are two sides of the same coin," he explained to the unhearing child. "True healing sometimes requires complete demolition first. To rebuild, one must first tear down what is broken."
Raphael's hand moved as if to touch Lucien's hair in a gesture of comfort but stopped mid-motion. The archangel stared at his own hand with confusion, visibly conflicted by the impulse.
"We are alike, you and I," he continued after a moment. "Both capable of unmaking and remaking reality itself. That is our purpose, our design. Two halves of a whole."
Rising to his feet, Raphael circled the panic room, examining the details of Lucien's mental construction.
"Together, as vessel and archangel united, we would be the most destructive force in creation," he said, almost reverently. "Capable of razing the universe to its foundations and building anew from the ashes."
Returning to Lucien's side, Raphael knelt once more.
"I will not awaken your healing abilities," he explained. "Such power might interfere with what must come. One Winchester must die, another must go to Hell to break the first seal. If you could prevent death, you might disrupt the carefully orchestrated steps toward Paradise."
After a long moment of silence, of merely observing the boy, Raphael continued.
"Instead, I will awaken the destructive aspect of grace already present in your soul - a power that once you learn to use and control it, will allow you to defend yourself against these 'gods' and other threats for it would be an inconvenience, if I have to constantly revive you or send another angel to heal you."
Raphael placed two fingers against Lucien's forehead.
"Grace typically requires centuries of knowledge and experience to control," he acknowledged. "But you should adapt quickly. You have already demonstrated unusual capabilities."
Power began to flow between them, emerald-sapphire light spreading from the archangel's fingers and sinking beneath Lucien's skin.
The dreamscape around them began to fracture as Raphael's power interacted with the Force already present in Lucien.
The archangel's expression showed momentary surprise - this reaction was stronger than anticipated, suggesting something unexpected in Lucien's makeup.
Rather than withdrawing, Raphael intensified the connection, determined to complete what he started. The light grew blinding, consuming both figures as reality itself seemed to bend around them.
"In nomine Patris," Raphael intoned, ancient power flowing through the words. "Excito potentiam. Suscitare virtutem. Evigilare destructionem."
("In the name of the Father, I awaken power. I raise up strength. I rouse destruction.")
The dreamscape shattered completely, fragments of memory and imagination scattering like glass before reforming into light, full of potential.
Within this light, Lucien's essence glowed even brighter than before, threads of golden light weaving through his being, integrating with the Force that already defined him.
With his task complete, Raphael withdrew from Lucien's dreamscape.
He paused to observe the sleeping boy one final time, noting subtle changes already manifesting - a faint luminescence beneath the skin, the jaguar mark having stopped bleeding.
Satisfied, Raphael turned to leave but hesitated. In a moment of uncharacteristic sentiment, he placed his hand briefly on Lucien's head in a gesture almost like a blessing.
"You will need this power soon enough," he said quietly. "The path ahead is darker than you know."
The archangel's form began to dissolve, returning to pure energy as he prepared to ascend back to Heaven.
Before he completely departed, he cast one final glance around the motel room, his gaze lingering briefly on John Winchester.
Something like pity crossed Raphael's features before his expression hardened once more into archangelic detachment.
"So much sacrifice..." he murmured. "But in the end they will know it was for something worthy. I give my word, I will make sure Paradise arrives for us all."
In a flash of light invisible to mortal eyes, Raphael departed, leaving no trace of his presence save for the changes wrought within Lucien's very being.
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(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter.
So, Raphael decided to actually do something, huh.
Also, this whole vessel having power thing - I kind of hinted at it, in I think chapter 17, with Sam when tapping into the Dark Side, his eyes glowing with red light like Lucifer, tapping into a bit of that power within him, against the Force Devouring Ghost.
But yeah, do tell me what you think of this, and how you liked Raphael this chapter.
Also, Grace, just like with The Force, needs knowledge to use properly.
Jack, Lucifer's son was literally born stronger than Lucifer, and still, he couldn't do half the shit Lucifer could, because he had absolutely no idea how.
So yeah, do keep that in mind.
I hope to see you all later,
Bye!)