My Devotion 4-7 (Team Heaven)
Author: NightsWhisper/Nalana
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Zip. Nadda.
General rating: PG-13
series summary: Summary: A reflection of each of where team heaven character’s loyalties lie.
warnings: spoilers up to last finale, some blasphemy.
Title: Humanity (My Devotion series, part 4 of 7)
Characters/Pairing(s): Dean, mentions of many others
Summary: This whole thing, if you ask me, is just messed up. Why do we always get the punches? Why can’t we just win for once?
Word Count: 1189
If you ask me this entire thing is just fucked up. I mean I’ve dealt with a lot of weir shit-weirder than weird even. I mean I haven’t known TV sitcom normal since I was four! But this just takes the ca-pie.
If you told me heaven wanted me as its bitch a year ago I would have sent you to the funny farm. I mean, hell as far as I believed they didn’t even exist. Then again the Sunday school good guys and fluffy clouds didn’t look like it actually existed. Most of the featherbrains I’ve met so far have been pretty much all dicks. Well, maybe not Cas. But even he can be a pain in the ass.
And I mean come on! What do they expect me to do? I can’t keep my baby brother in line. Even he’s gone off on me! And they want me to just pop up and somehow save the world from these bad guys who are ten times as strong as Sammy? Well I hate to break it to them, but I’m not wearing brightly colored spandex and morphin’. And I sure as hell am not throwing’ on any miniskirt and picking up a pair of pompoms. They saved the wrong cheerleader. Though clipping the impala into a giant robot of muscle cars that turn into a megazord of metal would be pretty damn sweet.
The point is I have no clue where they’re coming from. I know Sam and I are pretty kick ass, obviously. We’ve taken down some pretty big baddies in the past. But Satan? Really? Wasn’t Sam’s voodoo stuff hard enough to try to control. That was before he went all addict on me. I’ve already died once, and I am NOT looking forward to going back-which is where I’ll be headed if they keep pushing me towards this.
OH fuck. Isn’t that going to be nice? I try to take down their boss and I have to go play houseguest? Fuck no. NO way, not doing it, forget it. There are only so many times you can be dug out of the ground…or crawl your way through for that matter.
I don’t imagine the idiots will have a very nice time fishing me out again. Not that they wouldn’t deserve it. Those sons-of-bitches will be watching me like a hawk if I go back down. I don’t care what they threaten, they need me and getting me back will not be easy.
Not that the first time was really easy either, but you get what I’m saying.
That’s another thing. They say I’m their warrior or whatever and that they’ve helped me? What help? I’ve dug their asses out of so many shit holes I’ve lost count. I can’t see where they’ve done a damn thing for me, other then giving me a ride back to the living. I appreciate that one and all, but when you find out that it was done so I could be their little squeaky toy it kind of takes away the gratefulness of it all.
And when one of them does try to help me, they get slapped for it. Hell, they want to kill Anna just for saying no to them. And Cas…I don’t even want to know what they did to him up there. Not thinking about it. No way am I going there. From what I’ve seen…Well, lets just say at least demons try to act like they’re not jerks at first. Most of the time, at least.
Now don’t get me wrong. I am all pro-non-extinction of the world and its contents and bye-bye demon scum. But why the fuck do I have to be the one to do it? Haven’t Sammy and I lost enough? And damn it, if we’ve fought this long and things are only getting g WORSE? Is it even fucking worth it? I mean are we making a dent at ALL? It sure doesn’t seem like it.
I just wish we had some proof. I wish Chuck could see a little further and just you know…let it slip a little bit. Is there any light at the end of this god-forsaken tunnel? And I don’t mean the rising up to the pearly gates version either. I just, I want to see a place where people don’t have to run in fear of possession. I want to see ghosts just move the hell on. I want a world where no little kid has to watch his mother burn to a crisp as an infant. And if that makes me a sentimental fool then bring it on. I’d rather be out of work then to see this go on and on.
It used to be simple. We find a hunt; we take it down, the world’s a little simpler. But then along came Lucifer and the angels and all this crap. And it’s like it never ends? And they want me to fight. Well what the hell am I fighting for? The angels? God? Myself? The world? What the hell is it? I mean, why not just go jump off a bridge and let hell have me? I hated myself for the torture I did, but I was damn good at it. And it drives you insane anyway. So in a couple hundred years I might forget all about the guilt that tears me apart with every piece of flesh I carved away.
Okay. Maybe I won’t be able to get over that. But at least it was something I could do, for better or worse. Yea, sure, so the angels keep telling me I’m capable of all this, but I just don’t know any more.
Yea, the thought of taking down Lillith and all of the other douchbags is frickin’ awesome. And I’d love to be some kind of epic hero. Who wouldn’t? Maybe I can do this. Maybe I can be the good guy. But what does any of that matter when people keep DYING?
People will die. People will suffer. People will be in agony, will lose, will be crumpled and torn all for the good of some heavenly plan. Well screw that. Why do WE have to be the ones to be shot down and slapped around? Why does it always have to be US that take the fall? I’m done with that shit.
Fine. They win. I’ll play their game. But I’ll tell you one thing, it won’t be for them. It will be for every mother in the world, for every father, for every Sammy. It will be for those who are willing to stick up for themselves like Anna. It will be for everyone who’s just too damn afraid of being destroyed for following what their gut’s telling them, like Cas. It will be for every damn person who’s been lost trying to help the world, or to help us.
I won’t fight for heaven. I won’t fight to get rid of those soul suckers. I’m fighting because I have to. I’m fighting to keep humans just the way we are.
Title: Instinct (My Devotion series, part 5 of 7)
Characters/Pairing(s): Castiel, mention of others
Summary:So many perplexing emotions only seem to complicate my questions. Who is it that I exist for now?
Word Count: 1117
This has become very complicated. I find that I no longer can see the clarity that once had been unquestionable. I have my faith. That I have never lost. I’m only not sure whom it is that I have faith in. God? My brethren? Humanity? The written word of the Father? My charge? Myself? The rights of the soul? The rights of the human? So many conflicting and overlapping terms that I’m…I’m lost.
I had never questioned. I had been sickened and baffled when Anna had left us. There had been a period of confusion. She had seemed so in control. She was a perfect model and example. Her light shined just as brilliantly as any other angel I had seen. I was so certain that she had been destined for great responsibilities. We all were. We were all fooled.
I did not try to linger on the possibilities of why she would leave us. I couldn’t even begin to perceive. So I didn’t bother to waste precious time lingering. After all, my orders were clear. She was a traitor. She had defied God’s will and the Father himself. She was dangerous. If we were to ever relocate her, she was to be destroyed.
I continued in her place. I’m still not sure why they had promoted me to such a level. I was the least experienced in the battlefield itself. Though I suspect that it was due to my ability to plot and strategize. I was always better with my mind then my sword. I suppose that is one of the reasons I am so easily perplexed. My analysis of scenarios is meticulous, which is only strength for an angel. For a human, or rather those who can feel emotion, it is a most debilitating trait.
When we had been sent into hell to retrieve Dean, I did so out of duty. I had some sense of fear over the consequences but directed the garrison as I would in any other mission. Even as I faced the elder Winchester’s soul I didn’t feel, not even sympathy. His rabid and exhausted form meant nothing to me other then the one I had been too late to save. He meant failure. But even then, when his soul looked directly at mine with an intensity that made my own dimmer in the infested dimension, there had been a twinge of acknowledgement.
It wasn't until after I had brought him back to the world of the living that he truly began to fascinate me. Even after all we had done he refused to cooperate. He refused to believe. And he persisted in these viewpoints. The more I tried to understand him, to try to connect and convince, the more I became doubtful. The world had changed so drastically since its conception. And the silence from the Father was so painful. It was nerve-wracking. But here was this human man with a conviction that was awe-inspiring. It broke through the greatest darkness, leaving only the source of the light dim and in shadow. It made me wonder.
My brothers saw this. They saw my doubt, and they sought to reeducate me. They made valid points. They reminded me of whom I am. But now as I watch the Winchester pace around the tiny room unseen to him I can’t help but wonder if they had addressed what I was.
I am not the same Castiel that was created by the father. I am weaker. I have so much to learn, but with this new task that Dean would have me do… I feel stronger. I feel alive. I feel important, necessary even. His words about the worth of humanity shake me truer then any gospel I have heard.
Humans were the chosen ones of our father. They were his crowning achievement. Who are we to say when nit is their time to leave? They have so much potential yet. One day they could all shine as brightly as Dean does. Their souls could illuminate the empty corners of these worlds that they don’t even know exist. But if we let Lucifer win, if we bring about paradise, that chance will never happen.
Souls will come to heaven, yes. Paradise will exist. But it will only be a façade of happiness. The circle will be shattered. And what then? Have we all met our purpose? No, Dean is right. There has to be something else. Humans are greater then that. They deserve another chance. Surely the father would not let us intervene if it were truly time. We were never supposed to be judges, he was. And it was he that had desired for humans to prove their own worth and to earn their whole way into his welcoming arms.
It is not the work of one man. Or one angel. It is not the work of heaven, not of hell.
So if it is not my job to follow my brethren, who work at the hands of God, then what am I acting on? Is this what they call free will? It is an ill named term. Even if I am working now with a liberated mind, the concern of something else does dictate my actions. This desire to have the human would flourish, I believe, is at the core. It is my desire to defend the rights of those who are mortal.
Is that betrayal? If I work for the benefit of man does it mean I have defiled my dedication to God? Or am I simply acting as an extension of his will? I feel no less committed to him. I think, instead, that I feel like I have betrayed the thought of him that is held in popular belief by my brothers and sisters. Is it any worse to vouch for kindness, compassion, and humility? Are those not God’s greatest wishes.
It comes down to this. God is absent. It has been long since his voice was last heard. Until I have received order from him, I can only follow what I have always perceived his will to be. It is not something that can be regulated by those like me. Instead I must listen to what my instincts tell me. What I AM will tell me what I NEED. It’s as animalistic as that.
I feel the urge to protect. It is my duty, it is my impulse. I’ll follow that desire even if it takes me far away from the perceptions of my kin. For the best bet humanity could ever have at the moment is the brothers Winchester. So I will dedicate myself to their service, even if it is the end of my existence.
Title: Generational Gap (My Devotion series, part 6 of 7)
Author: NightsWhisper/Nalana
Characters/Pairing(s): Zachariah, mentions of all others
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none?
Summary:
Series- A reflection of each of where team heaven character’s loyalties lie.
Story- Whoever said questions were good for youth was clearly demonic.
Word Count: 564
I really miss the good old days. I remember a time when the worst thing we had to worry about was a few bad spirits sneaking into Eden. I knew I shouldn’t have left that dolt on guard duty. If only that damn snake hadn’t gotten in. Then I wouldn’t have to deal with any of this nonsense. There wouldn’t be any fight to bring about paradise. Lucifer might still be up here among us instead of having been sent down to play sheep boy, and maybe Dean Winchester would have never existed.
Even the last one would make my life a little easier. That boy is a down right pain. I swear sometimes that he is my test from God. If I am able to survive his insufferable quibbling I may be able to do anything. I believe I may understand how humans who are left too long with offspring that are not their own feel. It’s rather itchy, prickly. I don’t know what it is. I suppose I could always as Castiel the name. He seems far gone enough, after that little trip he sent me on.
Now there was an obedient little pup that decided to change masters. Pathetic. First Anna, now him. Perhaps it’s a related incident. I must have that checked on. Then again, after his little stunt I’m not sure there will be anything left to question. The arc angels are not as forgiving as me. They won’t give chances, and they won’t listen to reason.
Perhaps I should get Dean to push the Prophet’s buttons. A little angelic retribution against his cocky attitude might do him good. But then, we’d be out a warrior. And I don’t think that would be very helpful. I don’t like my tolerance being all in vain.
But now we’re down yet another angel. After Uriel’s little stunt killing off a nice sixth or so of our kind, we’re running a bit low. Ugh. That silly brat. Why do children these days insist on thinking they’re constantly right? Can’t they see that we are simply pawns in this game? Why can’t they just follow the rulebook and play nice? It’s who they’re meant to be.
Whoever said questions were good for youth was clearly demonic.
Existence is simple. The father created us. We all live to serve him in one way or another. He has given us his plans, his intentions. As the one who gave us the opportunity to be, he is the one who dictates our spans and deserves our devotion. It does not matter if he is currently present or not. He has left his word for us, and it is his word that must be followed.
It is not there for interpretation. It’s not there to follow when it suits you. No. His. Word. Is. Law. I can’t be any more clear on that. And yet these ridiculous humans and “feeling” beings always feel the need to rip it apart and make everything so dramatic. It’s disgusting. It truly is.
Well I’ve had enough. No more games. We’ve played nice long enough, whether they see it that way or not. It’s times these misguided disobedient misfits behaved. And they will obey, if I have to beat them to an inch of existence to get them to do so. They will know the wrath of heaven if they must.
Title: Dilemma (My Devotion series, part 7 of 7)
Author: NightsWhisper/Nalana
Characters/Pairing(s): Chuck, mentions of other
Summary: This was kinda cool once, but the shinyness is starting to wear off.
Word Count: 1054
Okay, that’s it! My head is pounding, my vision is blurry, and I haven’t been able to sleep for a week. Okay, maybe that’s the booze talking a little. Isn’t enough, enough? I’m going crazy here! I thought I was supposed to be someone special, not this torn up wreak I have become. Okay, maybe I’ve never really always had it together. That’s not the point.
When these visions started it was a little creepy. They were vivid in a way I had never experience before. I think I always knew that they were a little more than dreams. But they were fun. They were cool. Yea they were scary as all hell at times, but there was also the boozing and womanizing, and well some stuff I just did not want to see. Ever. As in, burn my eyes out and-oh god Pamela. Okay, as in drown yourself in-oh shit that poor high schooler. Okay, okay, I got it, as in bury me alive and--…okay way too cliché, point blank, and Tarantino. Probably should move on.
What I mean to say is that it had been fun once. I was just a guy, writing some books, and getting a minor dose of fame. I mean, come on, even if my fans are twisted fanatics, it is kind of flattering to see someone discuss your work. Even if by ‘discuss’ you mean typing out a pile of fictional goo…and I mean that in a literal sense at times… and squeeing your hearts out.
Even when I was canceled, the ideas kept coming. And then the Winchesters had landed on my doorstep. That was freaky. Damn that was freaky. But finding out your some cosmic scribe? Okay, kind of cool. I get to find out I ‘m not only psychic but that I have the heavenly secret service looking over my shoulder? That’s pretty damn awesome no matter how you slice it.
At least, that’s what I thought at the time.
I wish they would take it back. I’m sick of having to be secretive about all of this. I hate not being able to run to Sam and Dean and tell them what they need to do. I don’t want to see the world crumble. I want to see them succeed. They may be real people, but in a way they’re still my characters. And so I care about them, you know? I feel like I should be trying to help them out and rooting them on.
But this is so messed up. They’re tearing each other to shreds. Heaven, hell, and earth are all crumbling and here I am compelled to type at this dingy keyboard of mine like my life depends on it. And it kind of does. I tried to stop writing for a few days once after finding out. I thought that maybe, you know, if I didn’t write it those horrible things wouldn’t happen? The results weren’t pretty. They were more pleasant then when I tried to write a happy ending once…. I don’t want to think about that one.
I don’t know.
I just wish that I could go to bed one night without a bottle in my hand. I want to sleep in complete blackness. I want to be normal again. I want to be a washed up failed writer with normal everyday identity and social issues. I never signed up for this. At the same time, I want to do something important I want to help. I just don’t know how I can.
It’s all written. It’s all set to go. The apocalypse is on an hourglass. Any time now Lillith is going to be slaughtered, Lucifer’s going to come popping up and that’s it. End of story. We’ll all be doomed. Toast. Gone. Adios. No passing go, collecting 200 dollars and running to your owned boardwalk. So I do the only thing I can do. I pick up a phonebook and dial a very specific number I had highlighted in case it came to this.
I’m interrupted. At first I think it might be my guard duty coming to pick me up personally. It’s not. It’s Dean and Castiel and…what the hell? No, this isn’t right. They’re not supposed to be here. This isn’t what I wrote! This…
This isn’t what I wrote.
Okay. Freaky. Weird, but what about this isn’t. Maybe this is my chance. Maybe this is how I help. Maybe this is how I can get around them. Besides, if whatever’s going on is enough to freak out Cas, then I guess it’s okay to panic a little. Well, panic as soon as I tell them where Sam is.
In an instant Cas has sent Dean away. And it’s just us. The house is nearly bursting with their wrath, and I’m scared. Really fucking scared. But, what else can I do? This is my chance. If nothing else, maybe the angel doesn’t want to be alone in his last minutes…
No, positive thoughts. I place a hand on his shoulder. I want to tell him it’s okay, this is how it’s supposed to be. This is my destiny to stand a traitor with both of them. But he knows I’m bullshitting. A glare is all I get. I recoil. I wait.
This isn’t going to be pretty, but I don’t plan on budging. Even if it’s not destiny, even if I’m not supposed to be here, this is where I’m staying. They’re not moving me.
At least, I hope they’re not moving me. I’m not all that heavy. They could probably swat me away with a blink of an eye, and not an ‘I love genie’ wink, just a regular reflexive blink. That and I’m pretty sure while their anger is on Cas, I’m probably not their favorite person right now.
I think I’ll take my chances. I’ve watched the Winchesters hop up and strike down the evil of the world enough times. Maybe it’s time to do a little self-inserting. Even if it means I’m pulling out the whiteout on myself. But maybe that’s just fine. Maybe they’ll find another prophet then, who will write about me. Cool! No more work1
Err…wait…maybe that’s not such a great idea. I’m the only prophet around, right?
…Right?
Guys? Care to…answer?
At all?
Crap.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Zip. Nadda.
General rating: PG-13
series summary: Summary: A reflection of each of where team heaven character’s loyalties lie.
warnings: spoilers up to last finale, some blasphemy.
Title: Humanity (My Devotion series, part 4 of 7)
Characters/Pairing(s): Dean, mentions of many others
Summary: This whole thing, if you ask me, is just messed up. Why do we always get the punches? Why can’t we just win for once?
Word Count: 1189
If you ask me this entire thing is just fucked up. I mean I’ve dealt with a lot of weir shit-weirder than weird even. I mean I haven’t known TV sitcom normal since I was four! But this just takes the ca-pie.
If you told me heaven wanted me as its bitch a year ago I would have sent you to the funny farm. I mean, hell as far as I believed they didn’t even exist. Then again the Sunday school good guys and fluffy clouds didn’t look like it actually existed. Most of the featherbrains I’ve met so far have been pretty much all dicks. Well, maybe not Cas. But even he can be a pain in the ass.
And I mean come on! What do they expect me to do? I can’t keep my baby brother in line. Even he’s gone off on me! And they want me to just pop up and somehow save the world from these bad guys who are ten times as strong as Sammy? Well I hate to break it to them, but I’m not wearing brightly colored spandex and morphin’. And I sure as hell am not throwing’ on any miniskirt and picking up a pair of pompoms. They saved the wrong cheerleader. Though clipping the impala into a giant robot of muscle cars that turn into a megazord of metal would be pretty damn sweet.
The point is I have no clue where they’re coming from. I know Sam and I are pretty kick ass, obviously. We’ve taken down some pretty big baddies in the past. But Satan? Really? Wasn’t Sam’s voodoo stuff hard enough to try to control. That was before he went all addict on me. I’ve already died once, and I am NOT looking forward to going back-which is where I’ll be headed if they keep pushing me towards this.
OH fuck. Isn’t that going to be nice? I try to take down their boss and I have to go play houseguest? Fuck no. NO way, not doing it, forget it. There are only so many times you can be dug out of the ground…or crawl your way through for that matter.
I don’t imagine the idiots will have a very nice time fishing me out again. Not that they wouldn’t deserve it. Those sons-of-bitches will be watching me like a hawk if I go back down. I don’t care what they threaten, they need me and getting me back will not be easy.
Not that the first time was really easy either, but you get what I’m saying.
That’s another thing. They say I’m their warrior or whatever and that they’ve helped me? What help? I’ve dug their asses out of so many shit holes I’ve lost count. I can’t see where they’ve done a damn thing for me, other then giving me a ride back to the living. I appreciate that one and all, but when you find out that it was done so I could be their little squeaky toy it kind of takes away the gratefulness of it all.
And when one of them does try to help me, they get slapped for it. Hell, they want to kill Anna just for saying no to them. And Cas…I don’t even want to know what they did to him up there. Not thinking about it. No way am I going there. From what I’ve seen…Well, lets just say at least demons try to act like they’re not jerks at first. Most of the time, at least.
Now don’t get me wrong. I am all pro-non-extinction of the world and its contents and bye-bye demon scum. But why the fuck do I have to be the one to do it? Haven’t Sammy and I lost enough? And damn it, if we’ve fought this long and things are only getting g WORSE? Is it even fucking worth it? I mean are we making a dent at ALL? It sure doesn’t seem like it.
I just wish we had some proof. I wish Chuck could see a little further and just you know…let it slip a little bit. Is there any light at the end of this god-forsaken tunnel? And I don’t mean the rising up to the pearly gates version either. I just, I want to see a place where people don’t have to run in fear of possession. I want to see ghosts just move the hell on. I want a world where no little kid has to watch his mother burn to a crisp as an infant. And if that makes me a sentimental fool then bring it on. I’d rather be out of work then to see this go on and on.
It used to be simple. We find a hunt; we take it down, the world’s a little simpler. But then along came Lucifer and the angels and all this crap. And it’s like it never ends? And they want me to fight. Well what the hell am I fighting for? The angels? God? Myself? The world? What the hell is it? I mean, why not just go jump off a bridge and let hell have me? I hated myself for the torture I did, but I was damn good at it. And it drives you insane anyway. So in a couple hundred years I might forget all about the guilt that tears me apart with every piece of flesh I carved away.
Okay. Maybe I won’t be able to get over that. But at least it was something I could do, for better or worse. Yea, sure, so the angels keep telling me I’m capable of all this, but I just don’t know any more.
Yea, the thought of taking down Lillith and all of the other douchbags is frickin’ awesome. And I’d love to be some kind of epic hero. Who wouldn’t? Maybe I can do this. Maybe I can be the good guy. But what does any of that matter when people keep DYING?
People will die. People will suffer. People will be in agony, will lose, will be crumpled and torn all for the good of some heavenly plan. Well screw that. Why do WE have to be the ones to be shot down and slapped around? Why does it always have to be US that take the fall? I’m done with that shit.
Fine. They win. I’ll play their game. But I’ll tell you one thing, it won’t be for them. It will be for every mother in the world, for every father, for every Sammy. It will be for those who are willing to stick up for themselves like Anna. It will be for everyone who’s just too damn afraid of being destroyed for following what their gut’s telling them, like Cas. It will be for every damn person who’s been lost trying to help the world, or to help us.
I won’t fight for heaven. I won’t fight to get rid of those soul suckers. I’m fighting because I have to. I’m fighting to keep humans just the way we are.
Title: Instinct (My Devotion series, part 5 of 7)
Characters/Pairing(s): Castiel, mention of others
Summary:So many perplexing emotions only seem to complicate my questions. Who is it that I exist for now?
Word Count: 1117
This has become very complicated. I find that I no longer can see the clarity that once had been unquestionable. I have my faith. That I have never lost. I’m only not sure whom it is that I have faith in. God? My brethren? Humanity? The written word of the Father? My charge? Myself? The rights of the soul? The rights of the human? So many conflicting and overlapping terms that I’m…I’m lost.
I had never questioned. I had been sickened and baffled when Anna had left us. There had been a period of confusion. She had seemed so in control. She was a perfect model and example. Her light shined just as brilliantly as any other angel I had seen. I was so certain that she had been destined for great responsibilities. We all were. We were all fooled.
I did not try to linger on the possibilities of why she would leave us. I couldn’t even begin to perceive. So I didn’t bother to waste precious time lingering. After all, my orders were clear. She was a traitor. She had defied God’s will and the Father himself. She was dangerous. If we were to ever relocate her, she was to be destroyed.
I continued in her place. I’m still not sure why they had promoted me to such a level. I was the least experienced in the battlefield itself. Though I suspect that it was due to my ability to plot and strategize. I was always better with my mind then my sword. I suppose that is one of the reasons I am so easily perplexed. My analysis of scenarios is meticulous, which is only strength for an angel. For a human, or rather those who can feel emotion, it is a most debilitating trait.
When we had been sent into hell to retrieve Dean, I did so out of duty. I had some sense of fear over the consequences but directed the garrison as I would in any other mission. Even as I faced the elder Winchester’s soul I didn’t feel, not even sympathy. His rabid and exhausted form meant nothing to me other then the one I had been too late to save. He meant failure. But even then, when his soul looked directly at mine with an intensity that made my own dimmer in the infested dimension, there had been a twinge of acknowledgement.
It wasn't until after I had brought him back to the world of the living that he truly began to fascinate me. Even after all we had done he refused to cooperate. He refused to believe. And he persisted in these viewpoints. The more I tried to understand him, to try to connect and convince, the more I became doubtful. The world had changed so drastically since its conception. And the silence from the Father was so painful. It was nerve-wracking. But here was this human man with a conviction that was awe-inspiring. It broke through the greatest darkness, leaving only the source of the light dim and in shadow. It made me wonder.
My brothers saw this. They saw my doubt, and they sought to reeducate me. They made valid points. They reminded me of whom I am. But now as I watch the Winchester pace around the tiny room unseen to him I can’t help but wonder if they had addressed what I was.
I am not the same Castiel that was created by the father. I am weaker. I have so much to learn, but with this new task that Dean would have me do… I feel stronger. I feel alive. I feel important, necessary even. His words about the worth of humanity shake me truer then any gospel I have heard.
Humans were the chosen ones of our father. They were his crowning achievement. Who are we to say when nit is their time to leave? They have so much potential yet. One day they could all shine as brightly as Dean does. Their souls could illuminate the empty corners of these worlds that they don’t even know exist. But if we let Lucifer win, if we bring about paradise, that chance will never happen.
Souls will come to heaven, yes. Paradise will exist. But it will only be a façade of happiness. The circle will be shattered. And what then? Have we all met our purpose? No, Dean is right. There has to be something else. Humans are greater then that. They deserve another chance. Surely the father would not let us intervene if it were truly time. We were never supposed to be judges, he was. And it was he that had desired for humans to prove their own worth and to earn their whole way into his welcoming arms.
It is not the work of one man. Or one angel. It is not the work of heaven, not of hell.
So if it is not my job to follow my brethren, who work at the hands of God, then what am I acting on? Is this what they call free will? It is an ill named term. Even if I am working now with a liberated mind, the concern of something else does dictate my actions. This desire to have the human would flourish, I believe, is at the core. It is my desire to defend the rights of those who are mortal.
Is that betrayal? If I work for the benefit of man does it mean I have defiled my dedication to God? Or am I simply acting as an extension of his will? I feel no less committed to him. I think, instead, that I feel like I have betrayed the thought of him that is held in popular belief by my brothers and sisters. Is it any worse to vouch for kindness, compassion, and humility? Are those not God’s greatest wishes.
It comes down to this. God is absent. It has been long since his voice was last heard. Until I have received order from him, I can only follow what I have always perceived his will to be. It is not something that can be regulated by those like me. Instead I must listen to what my instincts tell me. What I AM will tell me what I NEED. It’s as animalistic as that.
I feel the urge to protect. It is my duty, it is my impulse. I’ll follow that desire even if it takes me far away from the perceptions of my kin. For the best bet humanity could ever have at the moment is the brothers Winchester. So I will dedicate myself to their service, even if it is the end of my existence.
Title: Generational Gap (My Devotion series, part 6 of 7)
Author: NightsWhisper/Nalana
Characters/Pairing(s): Zachariah, mentions of all others
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none?
Summary:
Series- A reflection of each of where team heaven character’s loyalties lie.
Story- Whoever said questions were good for youth was clearly demonic.
Word Count: 564
I really miss the good old days. I remember a time when the worst thing we had to worry about was a few bad spirits sneaking into Eden. I knew I shouldn’t have left that dolt on guard duty. If only that damn snake hadn’t gotten in. Then I wouldn’t have to deal with any of this nonsense. There wouldn’t be any fight to bring about paradise. Lucifer might still be up here among us instead of having been sent down to play sheep boy, and maybe Dean Winchester would have never existed.
Even the last one would make my life a little easier. That boy is a down right pain. I swear sometimes that he is my test from God. If I am able to survive his insufferable quibbling I may be able to do anything. I believe I may understand how humans who are left too long with offspring that are not their own feel. It’s rather itchy, prickly. I don’t know what it is. I suppose I could always as Castiel the name. He seems far gone enough, after that little trip he sent me on.
Now there was an obedient little pup that decided to change masters. Pathetic. First Anna, now him. Perhaps it’s a related incident. I must have that checked on. Then again, after his little stunt I’m not sure there will be anything left to question. The arc angels are not as forgiving as me. They won’t give chances, and they won’t listen to reason.
Perhaps I should get Dean to push the Prophet’s buttons. A little angelic retribution against his cocky attitude might do him good. But then, we’d be out a warrior. And I don’t think that would be very helpful. I don’t like my tolerance being all in vain.
But now we’re down yet another angel. After Uriel’s little stunt killing off a nice sixth or so of our kind, we’re running a bit low. Ugh. That silly brat. Why do children these days insist on thinking they’re constantly right? Can’t they see that we are simply pawns in this game? Why can’t they just follow the rulebook and play nice? It’s who they’re meant to be.
Whoever said questions were good for youth was clearly demonic.
Existence is simple. The father created us. We all live to serve him in one way or another. He has given us his plans, his intentions. As the one who gave us the opportunity to be, he is the one who dictates our spans and deserves our devotion. It does not matter if he is currently present or not. He has left his word for us, and it is his word that must be followed.
It is not there for interpretation. It’s not there to follow when it suits you. No. His. Word. Is. Law. I can’t be any more clear on that. And yet these ridiculous humans and “feeling” beings always feel the need to rip it apart and make everything so dramatic. It’s disgusting. It truly is.
Well I’ve had enough. No more games. We’ve played nice long enough, whether they see it that way or not. It’s times these misguided disobedient misfits behaved. And they will obey, if I have to beat them to an inch of existence to get them to do so. They will know the wrath of heaven if they must.
Title: Dilemma (My Devotion series, part 7 of 7)
Author: NightsWhisper/Nalana
Characters/Pairing(s): Chuck, mentions of other
Summary: This was kinda cool once, but the shinyness is starting to wear off.
Word Count: 1054
Okay, that’s it! My head is pounding, my vision is blurry, and I haven’t been able to sleep for a week. Okay, maybe that’s the booze talking a little. Isn’t enough, enough? I’m going crazy here! I thought I was supposed to be someone special, not this torn up wreak I have become. Okay, maybe I’ve never really always had it together. That’s not the point.
When these visions started it was a little creepy. They were vivid in a way I had never experience before. I think I always knew that they were a little more than dreams. But they were fun. They were cool. Yea they were scary as all hell at times, but there was also the boozing and womanizing, and well some stuff I just did not want to see. Ever. As in, burn my eyes out and-oh god Pamela. Okay, as in drown yourself in-oh shit that poor high schooler. Okay, okay, I got it, as in bury me alive and--…okay way too cliché, point blank, and Tarantino. Probably should move on.
What I mean to say is that it had been fun once. I was just a guy, writing some books, and getting a minor dose of fame. I mean, come on, even if my fans are twisted fanatics, it is kind of flattering to see someone discuss your work. Even if by ‘discuss’ you mean typing out a pile of fictional goo…and I mean that in a literal sense at times… and squeeing your hearts out.
Even when I was canceled, the ideas kept coming. And then the Winchesters had landed on my doorstep. That was freaky. Damn that was freaky. But finding out your some cosmic scribe? Okay, kind of cool. I get to find out I ‘m not only psychic but that I have the heavenly secret service looking over my shoulder? That’s pretty damn awesome no matter how you slice it.
At least, that’s what I thought at the time.
I wish they would take it back. I’m sick of having to be secretive about all of this. I hate not being able to run to Sam and Dean and tell them what they need to do. I don’t want to see the world crumble. I want to see them succeed. They may be real people, but in a way they’re still my characters. And so I care about them, you know? I feel like I should be trying to help them out and rooting them on.
But this is so messed up. They’re tearing each other to shreds. Heaven, hell, and earth are all crumbling and here I am compelled to type at this dingy keyboard of mine like my life depends on it. And it kind of does. I tried to stop writing for a few days once after finding out. I thought that maybe, you know, if I didn’t write it those horrible things wouldn’t happen? The results weren’t pretty. They were more pleasant then when I tried to write a happy ending once…. I don’t want to think about that one.
I don’t know.
I just wish that I could go to bed one night without a bottle in my hand. I want to sleep in complete blackness. I want to be normal again. I want to be a washed up failed writer with normal everyday identity and social issues. I never signed up for this. At the same time, I want to do something important I want to help. I just don’t know how I can.
It’s all written. It’s all set to go. The apocalypse is on an hourglass. Any time now Lillith is going to be slaughtered, Lucifer’s going to come popping up and that’s it. End of story. We’ll all be doomed. Toast. Gone. Adios. No passing go, collecting 200 dollars and running to your owned boardwalk. So I do the only thing I can do. I pick up a phonebook and dial a very specific number I had highlighted in case it came to this.
I’m interrupted. At first I think it might be my guard duty coming to pick me up personally. It’s not. It’s Dean and Castiel and…what the hell? No, this isn’t right. They’re not supposed to be here. This isn’t what I wrote! This…
This isn’t what I wrote.
Okay. Freaky. Weird, but what about this isn’t. Maybe this is my chance. Maybe this is how I help. Maybe this is how I can get around them. Besides, if whatever’s going on is enough to freak out Cas, then I guess it’s okay to panic a little. Well, panic as soon as I tell them where Sam is.
In an instant Cas has sent Dean away. And it’s just us. The house is nearly bursting with their wrath, and I’m scared. Really fucking scared. But, what else can I do? This is my chance. If nothing else, maybe the angel doesn’t want to be alone in his last minutes…
No, positive thoughts. I place a hand on his shoulder. I want to tell him it’s okay, this is how it’s supposed to be. This is my destiny to stand a traitor with both of them. But he knows I’m bullshitting. A glare is all I get. I recoil. I wait.
This isn’t going to be pretty, but I don’t plan on budging. Even if it’s not destiny, even if I’m not supposed to be here, this is where I’m staying. They’re not moving me.
At least, I hope they’re not moving me. I’m not all that heavy. They could probably swat me away with a blink of an eye, and not an ‘I love genie’ wink, just a regular reflexive blink. That and I’m pretty sure while their anger is on Cas, I’m probably not their favorite person right now.
I think I’ll take my chances. I’ve watched the Winchesters hop up and strike down the evil of the world enough times. Maybe it’s time to do a little self-inserting. Even if it means I’m pulling out the whiteout on myself. But maybe that’s just fine. Maybe they’ll find another prophet then, who will write about me. Cool! No more work1
Err…wait…maybe that’s not such a great idea. I’m the only prophet around, right?
…Right?
Guys? Care to…answer?
At all?
Crap.