Fic: The Suffering of Men and Angels (Gen)
And so it begins. I actually put off writing this until after midnight, because I'm a dork, but it seemed like a good way to kick off this months mini-nanowrimo. I've committed to 100 words a day, and so far I am off to a good start. I plan on doing a few mini-fics like this one as well as working on a bit of original writing that I've been pushing to the side for a while now. So lots to look forward to this month.
Title: The Suffering of Men and Angels
Disclaimer: I don't own any of this
Rating: G-ish
Summary: Doubts weigh on the soul
Characters: Dean Winchester and Castiel, mentions of Sam Winchester and John Winchester
Word Count: 655
A/N: This is the first bit of writing for this months mini-nanowrimo. It's of course a response to this weeks episode of SPN and the doubts mentioned by Castiel. And it is related to the last little mini-fic I wrote The Suffering of Man.
I am not a hammer, as you say. I have questions; I have doubts. I don’t know what is right and what is wrong, anymore. .
For the first time Dean realized that perhaps all this mess with angles and Heaven, it might not be so different from his own life, from the things he goes through every day, his fears and doubts. Maybe there was more than righteousness and halos to angels after all.
You never questioned a crap order?
When your father gave you and order didn’t you obey?
Because it comes from Heaven that makes it just.
Dean shook his head, that one hit a little too close to home - probably even more than even Castiel realized. How could he have known the number of times Dean doubted John? That those times weighed more heavily on him now than they ever had before.
“Let him go.”
It felt like a slap, how was Dean just supposed to let Sam go? It was Sammy, he’d been taking care of him his whole life, and now he was just supposed to let him go? It was the one thing he knew he could always do - John told him to take care of Sam, Dean knew he could handle that. And now he was just supposed to let him go?
“But, Dad-“ He started, but stopped himself at the look John threw him.
Sam had left in the early hours of the morning, sneaking out before they were awake. The only reason he’d known he was missing was his missing tooth brush. That kid never went anywhere without his tooth brush, and he certainly wouldn’t just leave it behind, even if he could just get a new one at any drugstore along the way to where ever he was going.
That and the fight the night before.
It wasn’t the worst fight they’d ever had. John and Sam they fought a lot, especially the older Sammy got. They were always butting heads, too alike and too different at the same time.
“Let him go.”
That was all John had said about Sammy disappearing. He didn’t wonder where he’d gone, what he’d do for food, for money. And Dean was just supposed to let him go?
It was the first time he’d ever really doubted John, the first time he wondered if John really was as infallible as he’d seemed for all those years. If he really was, in fact, human just like the rest of them and he was just trying to get through each day the same as him.
But then what did that mean about everything they’d been doing all those years. Was it all just a crap shot? Were they really out there to save people? Or were they just on John’s revenge fueled mission to find that demon who had killed his mother?
It was the first time he knew what it was to have doubts, to have questions, and it scared him - more than he’d ever admitted to anyone.
“I am not a hammer as you say. I have questions, I have doubts. I don’t know what is right and what is wrong, anymore.”
Dean nodded slowly, turning to look at the angel. He knew what it was to suffer doubts and questions. To be unsure of the one thing you should be able to trust implicitly. And he knew Angels were not all they seemed, they were not all righteousness and halos. They were like him, like Sam, like the rest of them, but they didn’t have the luxury of voicing their doubts.
“But in the coming months you will have more decisions to make. I don’t envy the weight that’s on your shoulders, Dean. I truly don’t.”
Perhaps not, but Dean knew there was an equal if not greater weight on Castiel’s shoulders. One doesn’t carry around doubts lightly. They weigh upon the soul, until it reaches the breaking point.
Title: The Suffering of Men and Angels
Disclaimer: I don't own any of this
Rating: G-ish
Summary: Doubts weigh on the soul
Characters: Dean Winchester and Castiel, mentions of Sam Winchester and John Winchester
Word Count: 655
A/N: This is the first bit of writing for this months mini-nanowrimo. It's of course a response to this weeks episode of SPN and the doubts mentioned by Castiel. And it is related to the last little mini-fic I wrote The Suffering of Man.
I am not a hammer, as you say. I have questions; I have doubts. I don’t know what is right and what is wrong, anymore. .
For the first time Dean realized that perhaps all this mess with angles and Heaven, it might not be so different from his own life, from the things he goes through every day, his fears and doubts. Maybe there was more than righteousness and halos to angels after all.
You never questioned a crap order?
When your father gave you and order didn’t you obey?
Because it comes from Heaven that makes it just.
Dean shook his head, that one hit a little too close to home - probably even more than even Castiel realized. How could he have known the number of times Dean doubted John? That those times weighed more heavily on him now than they ever had before.
“Let him go.”
It felt like a slap, how was Dean just supposed to let Sam go? It was Sammy, he’d been taking care of him his whole life, and now he was just supposed to let him go? It was the one thing he knew he could always do - John told him to take care of Sam, Dean knew he could handle that. And now he was just supposed to let him go?
“But, Dad-“ He started, but stopped himself at the look John threw him.
Sam had left in the early hours of the morning, sneaking out before they were awake. The only reason he’d known he was missing was his missing tooth brush. That kid never went anywhere without his tooth brush, and he certainly wouldn’t just leave it behind, even if he could just get a new one at any drugstore along the way to where ever he was going.
That and the fight the night before.
It wasn’t the worst fight they’d ever had. John and Sam they fought a lot, especially the older Sammy got. They were always butting heads, too alike and too different at the same time.
“Let him go.”
That was all John had said about Sammy disappearing. He didn’t wonder where he’d gone, what he’d do for food, for money. And Dean was just supposed to let him go?
It was the first time he’d ever really doubted John, the first time he wondered if John really was as infallible as he’d seemed for all those years. If he really was, in fact, human just like the rest of them and he was just trying to get through each day the same as him.
But then what did that mean about everything they’d been doing all those years. Was it all just a crap shot? Were they really out there to save people? Or were they just on John’s revenge fueled mission to find that demon who had killed his mother?
It was the first time he knew what it was to have doubts, to have questions, and it scared him - more than he’d ever admitted to anyone.
“I am not a hammer as you say. I have questions, I have doubts. I don’t know what is right and what is wrong, anymore.”
Dean nodded slowly, turning to look at the angel. He knew what it was to suffer doubts and questions. To be unsure of the one thing you should be able to trust implicitly. And he knew Angels were not all they seemed, they were not all righteousness and halos. They were like him, like Sam, like the rest of them, but they didn’t have the luxury of voicing their doubts.
“But in the coming months you will have more decisions to make. I don’t envy the weight that’s on your shoulders, Dean. I truly don’t.”
Perhaps not, but Dean knew there was an equal if not greater weight on Castiel’s shoulders. One doesn’t carry around doubts lightly. They weigh upon the soul, until it reaches the breaking point.