Chapter Text
Cars race by me as I walk along the empty streets, illuminating the darkness for brief moments, giving me fleeting glimpses of the filth that lines the road. A universe of stars sparkles above me as I make my way to nowhere. I never understood humans’ distain for the dark; they seem to live constantly in fear of the true beauty of the world. Hiding away indoors, slamming shut their shutters… but to be fair I’ve never understood why humans do anything, not to mention fear the heavens. That’s the one problem with the night; I don’t get to silently watch the human experience. I enjoy watching humans. Their small quirks that make them human bring me much amusement. Perhaps the angels were right, maybe I truly am in love with humanity, if nothing else. Heaven is no longer somewhere I have to hold onto, so why shouldn’t I love humanity?
I left the bunker again with out telling either Sam or Dean. I’ve just grown so tired of the constant disappointment in their eyes when they look at me, especially Dean. The last couple of days he has looked at me as if I am a monster, another failure in his world. I am just another creature of the night in a world made of monsters; a freak. He will never see me as a being capable of feeling human emotions, and in a way he’s right. When I see him save humans, the look in his eyes is liberating. He would never look at me like that. The almost disgust in his eyes when he looked at me tonight is ingrained into my mind. Every time I close my eyes all I can see is his look of betrayal, as if I was just another one of his demons. I couldn’t stand it. So I left. And here I am, once again alone, an outcast on heaven and earth. I’m a stranger even to my families.
It’s cold and the wind and rain whip around me and I wish I could feel it. I wish I could feel the wind bight across my cheek the shiver down my spine, but everything always feels the same. It is moments like these that I wish I were human. I would risk any amount of pain if it meant I was able to feel the vast range of human emotions. I’m sick of this cosmic power that swirls inside me. I am an abomination anyway. I am no angel; I don’t deserve any of this power bestowed upon me by God. I’m nothing but a… a … Hell, I don’t know what I am anymore. “Failure” is one word for me. The amount of times I’ve rebelled against heaven isn’t the only thing that taints my angelic soul; it’s Dean. When I look at him, I feel a longing that no angel should feel, especially not for a human. If anyone knew the way my stomach twists when he’s close to me, or the way my pulse flutters when he enters a room, or how I look at him when no one is watching, they would have me stripped of my grace for such a sin. Maybe I am better off human. Maybe he would love me then. But that, of course, is a foolish thought. I’ve been human before, and if he didn’t love me then, why would he love me now? Maybe things would be different without monsters or angels. If we were just people who happened upon each other, maybe then he would love me. But despite heaven or Dean’s opinions, I am still an angel of the Lord and I will continue to protect Sam and Dean, and the people I love. Although lately I haven’t even been able to do that. I have caused them more harm than good. It’s probably for the best I left, this way I can’t hurt anyone.
These thoughts drown me, as I walk the empty streets -- fear far from my mind. Even though I’m armed, I know that it’s reckless to wander alone at night. But I don’t care.
The streets get wider and wider until I’m no longer surrounded by buildings and I’m on the open road.
I once had a cause-- something to keep me going. I used to blindly answer to the call of God or others I cared for. That calling has long ceased to matter to me, so now I‘m here, standing in the middle of the highway. Eventually my mindless walking leads me to a bridge overlooking a bay. It’s nice here. It is in places like this I find myself able to think more clearly, surrounded by God’s creations, the stars reflecting across the water, the spray of salt water, the cry of sea birds; this is what God intended when he created the earth, not disappointments like me. Perhaps I should banish myself to the sea. Then my body could be eaten by fish and at least I won’t be wasting as much space.
My phone rings, and it’s Dean. I don’t answer; I am not in the mood to listen to him scold me for being an idiot. So I just let it ring…