A Cold and Broken Hallelujah - Prologue
Dean/Cas Big Bang Fic 2011
He looked at his children and sighed. How had it come to this so swiftly? He had asked one thing of them, just the one, and here they were bickering amongst themselves. He looked at the mess they had been making, leaving things undone, ignoring His work in favour of picking at each other, arguing over who was in the right, who was loved more.
His gaze flickered back to his work. It should have been finished. It should have ran, smooth and easy, with the tiny little bit of care and attention He had asked his children to give it. Instead it was a shambles. Parts had disappeared completely. The small, elegant pieces He had slaved over, adding each tiny speck of colour, each iridescent highlight, each claw and feather; broken or lost. His children had been careless and now He was furious.
He pulled them to Him; first the eldest child, firm in his belief that he was doing his Father's will whilst inside he was filled with loss and despair and hurt. He thought a moment on the second son who was still missing. He turned to the third, sighed at the rigidity within him, the need to appear like his eldest brother, not to appear anything like the second son. There were others and He gathered a handful of them, uncaring, just wanting to make His point.
He banished them from their home, sent them down to pay closer attention to His creation, to give them a chance to fix the damage they had been doing. He saw how close they had come to beginning the end of it all, saw that the Righteous Man had fallen and He wrenched him out, put that small but important cog back where it belonged, uncaring of the damage He may have caused to it in the process.
But He wasn't a totally unforgiving Father. He would give them a chance to set things right, to prove to Him that they could do the one thing He asked of them. Each year He would return and would give them the chance to prove their ability.
And so He waited. He had hoped that they would be quick at this, that He could get things back on track and return to His rest, but they had squandered their time, flitting aimlessly around, hiding out in the ether and so He took that ability away from them. Confined them to using the same modes of transport as the rest of His creations, their own limbs, their own wings.
He waited another year, listening to them squabble and moan and hide away. Still no progress and so He took their angelic voices, took their ability to sustain themselves with their connection to him.
The third year passed and His fourth son took up the challenge. He loved this child dearly, one of the few of His children to have paid His creation any mind, even if sometimes his games were too cruel and rough. He knew his heart and emotions were in the right place and so this time He did not punish them. Amusing as this child was, His creation was still hurting, He was still waiting.
He looked into the depths of His first son and saw the despair, the hurt that had blossomed deep inside, wrapping tendrils of fear and anger around that pure shining soul. This had been partly His fault he realised, but it was also something He could repair and He took the steps that would hopefully allow the wound to begin to heal.
And he waited through that fourth year, hoping that this time one of His children would be able to succeed.
On to Chapter One
He looked at his children and sighed. How had it come to this so swiftly? He had asked one thing of them, just the one, and here they were bickering amongst themselves. He looked at the mess they had been making, leaving things undone, ignoring His work in favour of picking at each other, arguing over who was in the right, who was loved more.
His gaze flickered back to his work. It should have been finished. It should have ran, smooth and easy, with the tiny little bit of care and attention He had asked his children to give it. Instead it was a shambles. Parts had disappeared completely. The small, elegant pieces He had slaved over, adding each tiny speck of colour, each iridescent highlight, each claw and feather; broken or lost. His children had been careless and now He was furious.
He pulled them to Him; first the eldest child, firm in his belief that he was doing his Father's will whilst inside he was filled with loss and despair and hurt. He thought a moment on the second son who was still missing. He turned to the third, sighed at the rigidity within him, the need to appear like his eldest brother, not to appear anything like the second son. There were others and He gathered a handful of them, uncaring, just wanting to make His point.
He banished them from their home, sent them down to pay closer attention to His creation, to give them a chance to fix the damage they had been doing. He saw how close they had come to beginning the end of it all, saw that the Righteous Man had fallen and He wrenched him out, put that small but important cog back where it belonged, uncaring of the damage He may have caused to it in the process.
But He wasn't a totally unforgiving Father. He would give them a chance to set things right, to prove to Him that they could do the one thing He asked of them. Each year He would return and would give them the chance to prove their ability.
And so He waited. He had hoped that they would be quick at this, that He could get things back on track and return to His rest, but they had squandered their time, flitting aimlessly around, hiding out in the ether and so He took that ability away from them. Confined them to using the same modes of transport as the rest of His creations, their own limbs, their own wings.
He waited another year, listening to them squabble and moan and hide away. Still no progress and so He took their angelic voices, took their ability to sustain themselves with their connection to him.
The third year passed and His fourth son took up the challenge. He loved this child dearly, one of the few of His children to have paid His creation any mind, even if sometimes his games were too cruel and rough. He knew his heart and emotions were in the right place and so this time He did not punish them. Amusing as this child was, His creation was still hurting, He was still waiting.
He looked into the depths of His first son and saw the despair, the hurt that had blossomed deep inside, wrapping tendrils of fear and anger around that pure shining soul. This had been partly His fault he realised, but it was also something He could repair and He took the steps that would hopefully allow the wound to begin to heal.
And he waited through that fourth year, hoping that this time one of His children would be able to succeed.
On to Chapter One