The next morning began like any other. Castiel rose with the sun, went through his classes—mutant history, ethics, control and precision. But the highlight of his day was fast approaching. After weeks, he was finally back in the Danger Room.
When the last bell rang, Castiel practically flew down the hallway to the training wing. He entered to find Kitty, Jubilee, and Illyana already waiting in their uniforms. Kitty gave him a cheerful wave, Jubilee offered a teasing smirk, and Illyana… well, Illyana just stared at the wall, arms crossed, ignoring his existence. Which was still better than trying to kill him.
Mr. Summers stood in front of them, arms folded across his chest.
"Alright, team," he said. "Today's exercise—Sentinel assault simulation. Ten targets, moderate difficulty."
Jubilee and Kitty groaned in unison.
Illyana grinned. "Finally."
Castiel tilted his head. "Why are you two upset? Fighting is fun."
Jubilee shot him a look. "Fun? We're not all walking nukes with glowing halos, dude."
Castiel just shrugged. "Still fun."
They filed into the Danger Room. The massive steel walls flickered and changed, transforming into a ruined cityscape. From the digital fog rose towering figures—Sentinels, tall and menacing, eyes glowing red.
"Begin," Mr. Summers said from the control booth above.
Castiel didn't even hesitate.
A pulse of divine light erupted from his body. His wings unfurled, his eyes gleamed, and his sword shimmered with holy fire. One by one, the Sentinels dropped—blasted, smote, purified—until all ten had collapsed in under twenty seconds.
Jubilee blinked. "That's… one way to do it."
Kitty looked mildly disappointed. "I didn't even get to phase once."
Illyana rolled her eyes. "Seriously?"
Mr. Summers sighed and pressed a button. The simulation reset.
"Castiel, out. The rest of you—do it again. Without him."
"What? Why?" Castiel asked.
"Because the point of this exercise is teamwork, not destroying them with under a minute by yourself."
Illyana smirked as she stepped forward with Jubilee and Kitty. "Watch and learn, angel boy."
This time, the simulation ran longer. The girls moved together—Illyana's teleporting across the area, Kitty phasing through rubble to get behind enemies, Jubilee lighting up their optics with sparks. They weren't nearly as fast or overwhelming as Castiel, but they worked together. Mr. Summers nodded, visibly pleased.
When the simulation ended, the others left laughing and sweaty. Castiel stayed behind as instructed.
Mr. Summers approached, his voice calm but firm. "You're switching squads."
Castiel blinked. "Huh? Why?"
"You're moving under Logan. Wolverine. He volunteered. You need someone who can push you. Someone you can't accidentally turn into ash."
Castiel looked down at his hands. "Because I'm too strong?"
"Too reckless," Scott corrected. "And too raw. Logan's better with your kind of power. He's also harder to kill."
That made sense. Still, Castiel nodded solemnly. "Okay."
"Good night, kid."
"Good night, Mr. Summers."
As Castiel turned the corner outside the Danger Room, he nearly collided with Illyana.
She gave him a suspicious look. "What did Summers want?"
"He said I'm moving to Wolverine's team."
Illyana scowled. "Tch… good."
"…Why are you happy and mad at the same time?"
"Shut up. Get your sword."
Castiel blinked, confused. "Why?"
"Because from now on, you're my training partner," she said bluntly.
He hesitated. "You sure? I'm way stronger than you."
Her brow twitched, and she gritted her teeth. "Exactly why, idiot."
"…Oh."
Before she could yell again, he summoned his sword. Holy light shimmered as it appeared in his hand.
"Teleport us to that field. Where we fought before."
A second later, they were there.
Illyana wasted no time, summoning her soul sword and charging him. Castiel didn't hesitate either—his wings exploded out behind him as he released a blast of holy light. It struck her chest and sent her flying into a tree.
She groaned and stood up. "You bastard."
"You wanted to spar," he said, brushing his hair back.
This time she teleported behind him. He anticipated it—spun around—but didn't expect her to vanish again. Her sword came down on his neck, stopping just short of contact.
She grinned. "Gotcha."
Castiel's body flashed with energy, knocking her back again.
Illyana screamed, frustrated. "Stop using your powers, coward!"
"Why? They're my strength!"
"Then what if you lose them one day? What then?"
Her words stung more than he expected. And she wasn't wrong.
Illyana dropped her sword. "Hand-to-hand. No powers."
"…Fine."
She pounced. A blur of motion, she caught him off guard and locked his neck in a tight headlock. He struggled. He was tempted to use super strength, to use holy energy, anything—but he didn't.
He needed a way out.
So he did the unthinkable.
He punched her butt.
Illyana gasped, stumbled, and released him. Castiel immediately wrapped his arm around her neck and flipped her to the ground, locking her into a headlock of his own.
"Submit," he said between breaths.
Illyana groaned. "Ugh… fine."
He quickly let go and stepped back, expecting to get slapped, punched—something.
She stood up, blinked at him… then laughed. "That's how you win, huh?"
"I panicked," he admitted.
She smacked him—not hard—and shook her head. "You're an idiot. But… you fought fair. No powers. I respect that."
"Same time tomorrow?"
"Damn right."
They teleported back to the mansion and walked their separate ways, the night air still clinging to their clothes.
Castiel smiled to himself.
For the first time, he didn't just win with power.
The soft morning sun filtered through the curtains of Castiel's dorm room. The boy blinked the sleep from his eyes, stretching his arms before rolling out of bed. Today was different. No more Mr. Summers. No more standing around as Kitty and Jubilee bantered. Today, he trained with Wolverine. The infamous mutant.
He got dressed, strapped the hilt of Michael's broken sword to his back, and made his way down the long corridor to the Danger Room. As he stepped in, he found the metal floor as cold as ever, but the energy in the room felt different—heavier.
A small, rugged figure stood at the control panel. Clawed gloves, gruff face, and a cigar hanging from his lips. Wolverine.
"'Bout damn time," Logan muttered as Castiel entered. "Get your ass over here."
"Yes, sir," Castiel replied quickly and jogged toward him.
Another figure stood near Wolverine. A girl. No—young woman. Auburn hair with a single streak of white. She leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, giving Castiel a look that could only be described as skeptical curiosity.
"This everyone?" Castiel asked, looking around. "I thought it was a team."
"It was," Wolverine said. "Most of the others graduated. Now it's just you two. This team's for the dangerous ones. The ones who can't control their powers or break the Danger Room too easily."
Castiel blinked. "Oh. Cool."
"Cool," Rogue echoed, rolling her eyes.
"Introduce yourselves while I get the first test ready," Logan said, heading toward the control room.
Castiel stepped forward and gave a small, respectful nod. "I'm Castiel Indra Winchester. Fourteen. I have angelic powers. Healing. Holy energy. Teleportation. Smiting evil. That kind of stuff. Also, I'm Christian. That's… kind of important to me."
Rogue arched a brow. "You one of those choir boy types?"
He shrugged. "I've been called worse."
Rogue smirked and pushed off the wall. "Anna Marie. But most folks call me Rogue. I'm nineteen. My power? I touch someone, I steal their memories, their powers, their everything. If I hold on too long, I kill 'em."
Castiel's eyes widened slightly. "That sounds… intense."
"Yeah, well, sucks not being able to touch anyone." Her voice was flat, but there was an edge of pain behind it.
"You can touch me if you want," Castiel said without thinking. "My power probably won't let you kill me. I'm too strong."
Rogue blinked, then let out a small laugh. "You serious?"
He gave her a arrogant smile. "yes I am."
"That's what they all say," Rogue muttered. "Then I end up putting 'em in a coma."
Castiel just shrugged and looked away. "Offer stands."
Just then, Wolverine's voice crackled over the intercom. "Enough chit-chat. Castiel, you're up. Rogue, you're with me in the control booth. Let's see what angel boy can do."
The floor beneath Castiel began to hum as a dozen Sentinels materialized, tall metal giants with glowing red eyes.
Castiel cracked his neck. "Let's begin."
"Let's start with the basics. Blast 'em."
Castiel raised one hand, letting holy energy charge in his palm. A beam of golden-white light blasted forward, blowing apart the first Sentinel in a flash of divine fire.
"Can you do that from anywhere else?" Wolverine asked.
Without answering, Castiel closed his eyes—and then exploded with radiant holy energy from every inch of his body. The rest of the Sentinels were instantly obliterated in a burning wave of light.
Wolverine shielded his eyes. "Okay, okay! Stop showing off, angel boy."
The light died down.
"Next batch," Wolverine barked.
More Sentinels rose from the floor.
"Use your other tricks. Move."
Castiel grinned. With a blink, he vanished—bamf—then reappeared standing on a Sentinel's head. With another teleport, he appeared behind one, sending a holy blast point-blank through its back. One by one, they fell.
Rogue watched from the glass observation booth, impressed. "He's like a holy Nightcrawler… with nukes."
Wolverine watched closely. "What was that light that came from their eyes before they exploded?"
"That's smiting," Castiel said. "My most powerful move. It purges whatever it touches. Kills anything impure."
"Nice," Wolverine muttered. "Got anything else?"
"I can heal."
"Let's test that."
"Huh?"
"Stand still," Wolverine ordered. "Gonna have the Sentinels shoot you."
"Wait, what?"
But Wolverine just glared at him until Castiel sighed. "Okay, okay…"
The Sentinels opened fire.
BOOM. THUD. CLANK.
Castiel flew back, grunting as the bullets struck him, tearing apart his shirt and pants. He wasn't hurt—his skin remained flawless—but it still stung like hell.
When the smoke cleared, Castiel stood in the rubble, completely unharmed but… very naked.
Rogue turned away, flustered. "Damn…"
Wolverine laughed and tossed him a uniform. "Put that on. You're in the X-Men now, you dress like one. That one's mine—might be a little tight."
"Yeah," Castiel grumbled, squeezing into the short-legged, snug outfit. "You're like five-three."
"Watch it, kid."
Once Castiel was suited up, Wolverine returned with a thoughtful look.
"Anything you think might hurt you?"
Castiel hesitated. "Not really. Maybe… my own power?"
Wolverine grinned and popped his adamantium claws. "Let's test that too. Give me your hand."
He slashed once. Nothing. Again, harder. Still nothing. He even stabbed straight through—and Castiel didn't bleed.
Wolverine stared. "Damn… you might be invincible."
"Wait," Castiel said. He summoned the hilt of the broken Sword of Michael. As holy light wrapped around it and formed the glowing blade, he looked at Wolverine. "Let's try this."
He dragged the holy blade across his own palm.
Slice.
Blood.
Wolverine raised an eyebrow. "That's the first thing that's worked."
Castiel nodded. "Holy energy. My own. Probably the only thing that can kill me."
Wolverine crossed his arms. "Alright, heal up."
Castiel held his glowing hand over the wound, and golden light poured into it. Within seconds, the cut sealed up, skin whole again.
"Not bad," Wolverine muttered. "You're one hell of a mutant. Most powerful I've seen—raw power-wise."
He chewed on the end of his cigar. "But raw power ain't everything. Tomorrow, we start real work. Teamwork. Control. You got the firepower. Now you need the discipline."
Castiel nodded, feeling something like pride stir in his chest.
"You're dismissed, kid."
He gave a salute and turned to leave.
As he exited the Danger Room, Rogue gave him a nod. "See ya tomorrow, angel boy."
Castiel smiled and walked off, the X-Men uniform clinging a little too tight—but feeling right for the first time.
Tomorrow, the real work would begin.