This much, he knew.
A/N: just a short introspective piece. Not sure how it turned out, but hey. I finished, which is pretty much a first~ 8D
Mary laid him down and kissed his head gently. “Good night, baby. And remember, the angels are watching you.” She shut the door softly behind her. Dean rolled over to look at the stars out of the window. Were they the angels?
The stars danced in his wide green eyes, and he whispered softly “Keep mommy and daddy safe. And baby Sammy too, please.” and he drifted off to sleep, knowing that his family would be safe because mommy said the angels were watching, and mommy wouldn't lie.
That was the last time she spoke to him. That night was the one of the fire.
==
He hadn't spoken... at all since the night of the fire. He cried silently, at night. He didn't want to upset Daddy more. He didn't understand it, but he knew that he drank the funny smelling stuff when he cried, not that daddy did it when he thought he could see.
He knew mommy was up there with the angels, watching. It made him sad that she couldn't kiss him goodnight, he found it hard to sleep, he missed her. But she was watching. This he knew.
==
Dean was about seven, and in the pews of pastor Jim's church. “Sammy, don't touch that.” he told his brother, who lowered his arm from trying to reach one of the candles. It wasn't alight, but it could fall and hurt him.
He looked at the cross which was at the front of the church. His thought wandered to the angels. Dad had come home from his last job hurt, as he often did. Did the angels keep him safe? It hadn't looked like it. Recently... Dean had found himself wondering recently if his mom had been right. He didn't get it, but there was a feeling... something was missing? Was that it?
He didn't know; as much as he didn't know if the angels were watching anymore.... if they even existed anymore. He did know that Sammy would be safe, because even if they weren't, he was.
Sammy was climbing on Dean's lap, and his thought came back to this. He was watching, Sammy would be safe. This much he knew.
A few years later, and Sammy nearly died when he wasn't watching. It haunted him; he knew he couldn't let that happen again. And he had to ask himself where the angels were then.
==
Fifteen years old, and the last of his faith, the little slice it had been, faded away into nothing. There were no angels watching. They wouldn't have let them lead this life. He wouldn't be in hospital right now with a damned nasal cannula if there were. Sammy wouldn't be crying - Dean knew, even if Sam was trying to hide it - because Dean had early lost his damned life protecting him on the latest damned hunt.
If they were... they wouldn't have lost mom.
The angels didn't exist. He'd tried to keep faith, but with every innocent person hurt or killed, every time his family hurt, that light had slowly died a little. Dean never asked for a miracle. Hell, he never even asked for a sign. He just asked that Sam and Dad were safe.
He never had an answer. Until a few years later, at least. Sam left for Stanford; left him for Stanford. Dean gave up even hoping. He was alone. This much he knew.
==
“My name is Castiel. I am an angel of the Lord.”
No. He couldn't be. He might be anything, but he couldn't be an angel. The wings... something had to be able to do that; Angels didn't exist. They couldn't exist. If angels were going to save anyone, it wouldn't have been him. And it would have been before... before... he couldn't even think it.
No, angels didn't exist, and they wouldn't have saved him. They would have saved his mom, his dad, Sammy... the ones who were good; the ones who deserved saving.
He wasn't an angel. This much.... this much Dean knew.
Mary laid him down and kissed his head gently. “Good night, baby. And remember, the angels are watching you.” She shut the door softly behind her. Dean rolled over to look at the stars out of the window. Were they the angels?
The stars danced in his wide green eyes, and he whispered softly “Keep mommy and daddy safe. And baby Sammy too, please.” and he drifted off to sleep, knowing that his family would be safe because mommy said the angels were watching, and mommy wouldn't lie.
That was the last time she spoke to him. That night was the one of the fire.
==
He hadn't spoken... at all since the night of the fire. He cried silently, at night. He didn't want to upset Daddy more. He didn't understand it, but he knew that he drank the funny smelling stuff when he cried, not that daddy did it when he thought he could see.
He knew mommy was up there with the angels, watching. It made him sad that she couldn't kiss him goodnight, he found it hard to sleep, he missed her. But she was watching. This he knew.
==
Dean was about seven, and in the pews of pastor Jim's church. “Sammy, don't touch that.” he told his brother, who lowered his arm from trying to reach one of the candles. It wasn't alight, but it could fall and hurt him.
He looked at the cross which was at the front of the church. His thought wandered to the angels. Dad had come home from his last job hurt, as he often did. Did the angels keep him safe? It hadn't looked like it. Recently... Dean had found himself wondering recently if his mom had been right. He didn't get it, but there was a feeling... something was missing? Was that it?
He didn't know; as much as he didn't know if the angels were watching anymore.... if they even existed anymore. He did know that Sammy would be safe, because even if they weren't, he was.
Sammy was climbing on Dean's lap, and his thought came back to this. He was watching, Sammy would be safe. This much he knew.
A few years later, and Sammy nearly died when he wasn't watching. It haunted him; he knew he couldn't let that happen again. And he had to ask himself where the angels were then.
==
Fifteen years old, and the last of his faith, the little slice it had been, faded away into nothing. There were no angels watching. They wouldn't have let them lead this life. He wouldn't be in hospital right now with a damned nasal cannula if there were. Sammy wouldn't be crying - Dean knew, even if Sam was trying to hide it - because Dean had early lost his damned life protecting him on the latest damned hunt.
If they were... they wouldn't have lost mom.
The angels didn't exist. He'd tried to keep faith, but with every innocent person hurt or killed, every time his family hurt, that light had slowly died a little. Dean never asked for a miracle. Hell, he never even asked for a sign. He just asked that Sam and Dad were safe.
He never had an answer. Until a few years later, at least. Sam left for Stanford; left him for Stanford. Dean gave up even hoping. He was alone. This much he knew.
==
“My name is Castiel. I am an angel of the Lord.”
No. He couldn't be. He might be anything, but he couldn't be an angel. The wings... something had to be able to do that; Angels didn't exist. They couldn't exist. If angels were going to save anyone, it wouldn't have been him. And it would have been before... before... he couldn't even think it.
No, angels didn't exist, and they wouldn't have saved him. They would have saved his mom, his dad, Sammy... the ones who were good; the ones who deserved saving.
He wasn't an angel. This much.... this much Dean knew.