I stood there watching the street light flick on and off. As if a child was playing with the switch. It was dark outside the hospital, gloomy atmosphere being around death. The silver moon hanging for the sky and the tree's shadows filling the air. The building… Nothing good can happen when being outside building full of ill, sick and dead people room after room. Bed after and bed.
Bet you're wondering what I'm doing here. Ever heard of a guy named Dean Winchester? My brother, inside the building standing behind me is where he is. He's in a coma. He just lies there on the bed, sleeping into death. Nothing changes whenever I step into the hospital, just people (doctors) telling me that I should brace myself for the worst to come. I don't listen to them; I don't listen to a word they say. I wonder why they tell these things, aren't they suppose to be saving him instead of telling me to hope for a something, a miracle? I'm not here waiting for a miracle; I don't believe in such things. Will telling myself that they will make a difference; will it all of a sudden change the situation? Believing in something that doesn't exist doesn't take my eye. I couldn't just sit there and watch him die, so I left. Sitting there wouldn't give me answers, the doctors acted as if they had already given up on him. But I would never do such a thing. So I turn to the only person that could give me answers.
Under the flicking light was a figure (a man) I was waiting for to find some answers. He was the only that would know. I stand there staring at the shadow that stood in the distance. He takes a step, then another until he stands in front of me, eye to eye.
The man standing of me is in fact an angel, believe me or not he was real. Castiel is his name, I asked for him. Dean needed to be saved. I knew that there was a chance that it couldn't be done this way. If not, I always had the option of a cross-road demon. Whatever had to be done I would gladly do it.
