Authors Note: This is an Archangel AU. The main characters are Chuck, Michael, Raphael, Gabriel, Lucifer, and Haven (OC). For AU purposes, Lucifer's name has been changed to Nick. Other characters may show up later in the story but the focus is on the Shurley Family.

Parenting is hard.

I'm sure I am the biggest failure in the world, worst parent ever. I just didn't know what to do with the mess that was my family, so I did what I thought was the only thing I could do: I left.

Michael was a good boy who grew into a good man. I knew he could handle things. I needed time to just think. Everything had fallen apart once my wife passed away, and no matter what I did things just got worse. The boys were all out of control, I had no idea how to handle a little girl, or a big family by myself. I began drinking away my depression and anxiety and spent more time at the Roadhouse than I did at home.

On top of being a single father to five children, I worked as an analyst at a company and had the biggest jerk in the world for a boss. Dick Roman was a thorn in my side, constantly riding me for the smallest mistake, for being five minutes late because my five-year-old daughter wouldn't get ready for school on time, for looking too tired. No matter what I did, he was on my case. Dick would give me projects with immediate due dates, knowing what I had going on at home. The anxiety carried over to home life, although I tried to leave my work at the office. I was irritable, short, and didn't give my children the time or attention they all deserved.

Not many people understood what it was like to be a single father. The judging looks I would receive as my hyperactive son would run up and down aisles of the grocery store, tossing boxes of sugary cereal and bags of candy into the cart. Or when my middle child would leave the house looking like he worshipped Satan (as a side note, he probably thought he WAS Satan). I'm not sure what was going on with Nick at the time, one day he was fine and the next day, he snapped. Completely lost his mind and took it out on the whole family. He began dressing in all black, chains hanging off his baggy pants, green hair, piercings, listening to that awful racket he called death metal. He hated his siblings, and what's worse, he hated me.

We all were a happy family, back in the day. Even after my wife died, we managed to keep it together for a while. Then the boys all hit puberty and it all went to Hell. Raphael was too good to be seen with us, too busy being captain of the football team, too busy with his friends. Michael was busy with his first year of college. Nick had gone dark side, stayed locked inside his room (which he had painted black even though I had told him absolutely not) listening to his loud music and doing who knows what else. Gabriel...Oh, Gabriel. My youngest son, the jokester of the family. He was a funny kid, always made everyone laugh. He had a charm about him that made everyone like him, except for his teachers. He'd come home from school every day from Kindergarten on with a note from the teacher. He was hyperactive, never could sit still, always up to something. I had to stay on my toes with that one, constantly having to keep him away from the bowl of sugar in the kitchen or the spray paint in the garage.

Then there was Haven. The unplanned outcome of a drunken night at a friend's wedding and a failed vasectomy. Our boys were old enough to care for themselves, Michael starting high school, Raphael and Nick in middle school, and Gabriel in third grade. Gabriel was meant to be our last one, the baby until my wife approached me one morning with a positive pregnancy test. Raphael was the only one of the boys that weren't thrilled about a new baby, mostly because his younger siblings already annoyed him. The rest of them were excited, though, even Gabriel. We thought he would have the most trouble, but he turned out to be a wonderful big brother. Nick was a good brother to the younger ones, too, for awhile. He didn't care much for Michael and Raphael, who liked to just keep to each other.

My wife began to hemorrhage after giving birth to our only daughter and lost too much blood. She passed away as I sat by her bedside, our newborn in my arms. I had lost the foundation of our family, my soulmate, but as I stood in the corner of the room watching the nurses unplug the cables and IV's from my wife's lifeless body, I looked down at the sleeping little one in my arms. A pain went through my core, and I was scared. I knew nothing about raising girls, hell I barely knew anything about raising boys. I didn't know if I could do it, but I was determined to. I took her home and made a promise to my heartbroken boys that I would do everything possible to be a good parent.

I failed. I couldn't handle the pressure and the stress. I walked out on my family and I ruined their lives. I regret that decision, and every decision I made after that because I never went back. I couldn't face them after leaving, it was too hard. Now, though, I have to. I have to go back and face my children to ask them to forgive me before it's too late.