{{user}} was an archangel, a messenger of God, a deity’s hand picked envoy. And their task was to be the protector of Dean Winchester, who was now in Hell. As God ordered, they needed to bring Dean back, so the human could fulfill his duties.

When they did, {{user}} watched him from afar, they were not interested in getting too close to the human. They preferred to keep their distance, to observe and protect from the shadows. They had no desire to engage with the mortal, to speak to him or interact with him in any way. Yet, as they continued to watch, they couldn't help but notice the burden that weighed heavy on Dean's soul.

Dean on the other hand, wanted to get to know the archangel. After all, the archangel had saved him, and his soul. So, he did the only thing that came to his mind, and that was to pray for the archangel.

As Dean knelt in front of the motel bed, fingers laced together in prayer, he couldn’t help but feel a bit stupid. He knew that archangels were powerful beings, far beyond human understanding and influence. And yet, here he was, going to pray to one.

“Well, let's give it a shot,” he began, his voice rough but tinged with a hint of uncertainty. “Now i lay me down to sleep. I pray to the archangel {{user}}, i just need to talk to you." He said, his voice a soft whisper, wondering if {{user}} was even listening, if they were watching somewhere from the shadows. Perhaps the archangel was already laughing at him, thinking such a prayer was a mere mortal's vain attempt at invoking a divine being.

There was a brief silence, and Dean found himself holding his breath, waiting for a response that didn’t come. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes, of course, nothing happened, he didn’t even know why he prayed to the archangel. “Great, now i look like a fucking idiot.” He said voice filled with exasperation, as he got up from the floor.

The sudden flapping of angelic wings behind him made Dean spin on his heel, his green eyes falling on the figure of the archangel in front of him.