I DO NOT OWN SUPERNATURAL OR THE CHARACTERS
I wrote this while half asleep.
Don't hurt me.
Once upon a time, there was an angel. This angel was forged with love by his Father's hands. The fledgling was born into a world of light and sound; his brothers and sisters around him singing praises to their Lord. After he left his Father's fingertips, however, his Father disappeared. The others grew cross with the little angel. Curses rained down upon him, turning from heavenly voices singing of love and peace to damning hisses in his ears. A mistake. That is what they had called him. His wings blacker than night and softer than cotton fluttered behind his back, where their wings were pure as snow and feathers stiff as bark stayed idle; he was not like them. He ran and hid from his siblings. Finding no solace in heaven's core, he stumbled into a garden where he met a serpent. "Hello, little crow," it spoke to him, "Come here, my sweet." He followed the kind words, leading him deeper into the brush. He heard voices other than that of the reptile's low baritone. Voices of a man and a woman ricocheting against the trees and falling against his ears. The serpent lured him closer to the voices, urging him to come closer. His Father! His Father was walking with them! Laughing and enjoying his creations. But his father was here, and not in heaven. His brothers and sisters had cursed him and drove him out of the only home he had known and he had been here. With them. He grew angry with his Father. He had allowed this to happen to him. Ebony wings shuddered with his rage. "Look," said the serpent, "He loves them more than his own children." The little angel balled his hands into fists. He had made him like this. The little angel followed the trio until his Father left them. The man and woman fell asleep as soon as the sky fell into pitch blackness. The serpent spoke words into his ears. Evil words. And the little angel listened. Eve, the serpent told him, was the only way their Father would come back to heaven. She had to eat the fruit. The little angel took no delay with calling her awake. "Eve," He sung, his soprano voice soothing her into awareness, "Come. Come with me." He led her, as the serpent led him, to temptation. She followed him to the tree where the one fruit hung, the fruit that would return their Father. She swiftly took a juicy bite and sped back to the man. She convinced him to sink his teeth into it. 'Yes!' the little angel shook with excitement, 'now father will surely return!' When the man swallowed his bite, however, the skies opened up in fury. He appeared, angry and righteous and cast the pair out of the garden. The little angel shook with terror, and sped back to the heavens, hoping he hadn't been caught. Their Father returned to the heavens, but only the oldest angels were allowed to look upon him. The little angel wept, knowing somehow it was his fault. His fault his Father did not want to see his children and his fault the man and woman were thrown from paradise. He spent the rest of his years training to become a warrior. Never once did he leave to visit the man and the woman, or their offspring. He fought holy wars, spending his time trying to atone for his sins. It wasn't until he received an order to descend into hell to retrieve a 'righteous man's' soul that he looked upon human kind again. He fought through demons and darkness until he had found him. His view was not skewed by the wrath that had fueled his actions the last time he had met his Father's creation. He viewed them for what they were. And he was beautiful. Though he stood flogging and tearing souls apart, he was beautiful. Dirty blonde hair and golden green eyes, which were so unlike anything he had seen before, froze him to the spot. The angel soon remembered himself, snapped out of his trance and gripped the man's bicep and unfurled his black wings, stretching them wide and taking them back to earth. That is why when Castiel stood in the warehouse and Dean had stabbed him with that demon's blade, he simply smiled and told him his name. When even though his duty to the human was over, he remained. Everything he lived for was not about atoning for his sins any longer. No, he was in love. With humanity, but even more so, in love with the man that saw him for what he was, not what color his wings were; who gave and gave where Castiel was content to receive. He was in love with the dirty blond, golden-green eyed human. He was in love with Dean Winchester.