Heaven's Grief

Everything I say, I say to me first.
Everything I do, I do to me first. – "Dark Come Soon" by Tegan and Sara

Chapter One: Pulse

A pulse…

A fluttering, insistent little thing…

I felt cold then, like I was first doused in ice water before being thrown outside during a snowstorm. It made me feel tingly and still very much frozen. Something was different. There used to be a void, an emptiness that was tangible, but somehow I was now whole. There was a muffled sound. Gravel moved roughly beneath footsteps that seemed as if like a dance. It echoed at the back of my subconscious and involuntarily brought forth a memory. I could hear my ragged breathing, the heavy clashing of two angel blades, and feel the hatred that was more potent than hell itself.

Sticky, coppery warmth filled my mouth. The girl that the body belonged to was long gone, but I could tell that the vessel was broken in ways I couldn't fix. It was irreparable damage and Crowley knew it. He knew that he was stronger than me and I knew that every move against him would be futile. I remembered blinking away at the blood stinging my eye, as I took another hard blow to the head. Crowley's fingers twisting in the collar of my jacket, as he dragged me to my feet.

I was alive long enough to see that the boys were all right. The Winchesters needed to survive. Their existence proved to be crucial and damned prophetic, and I had to die for that cause. I was okay with staying dead permanently. I liked the thought of becoming the absolute nothingness that I was never afraid of and not leaving behind a single particle of my being.

The color blue flashed rapidly, almost like the ticking of an old clock. It mimicked the same wild rhythm as the pounding in my chest. Blue. Any moment that clock would chime and the dull endless throbbing might stop. Castiel's eyes poured into this living, inexplicable dream. Blue. The Angel Tablet held safely in Castiel's hands. I couldn't have known for sure that he'd made it out safely, but my mind painted a vivid picture, of that, and then some other occurrences I wouldn't have cared to imagine.

I accepted these visions as facts, but why was I here, when I was supposed to be done?

I started to shiver uncontrollably, but I didn't have a human body. There weren't any bones to shake. I didn't have skin to cover them or veins housed with blood pumping beneath it. I willed my eyes opened to a daylight that nearly blinded me, so I quickly closed them. As I tried lifting my sore limbs, I realized that I was halfway submerged in water. It took me a while to pull my body out of the muddy lake, but I did well despite feeling disoriented.

Raking the soft earth beneath my fingernails, I managed to drag myself to the nearest tree that I could find and pressed my back against its firm surface. My chest heaved with every harsh, laborious pant. My lungs strained for necessary intakes of air and it hurt. Everything hurt. Honestly, I suffered this whole ordeal as a human might.

I am human and this wasn't a vessel. This was my flesh, my bones, my blood. And I hated it.

There had to be a reason, an answer that would justify this obvious mistake. I raised my head up skeptically towards the clouds. An overused and outdated trench coat flashed at the back of my mind. Skin that was pale, like the stars illuminating a pitch black sky, and a pair of unearthly blue eyes, both fierce and genuine.

I decided to try to call on him. My voice hoarse, as it broke, "C-Clarence? Can you hear me? I'm in need of divine intervention."

To no surprise to anybody, Castiel didn't appear before me. Not the first time I called, nor the sixth, the twentieth. I settled back against the tree and closed my eyes. It was difficult to ignore the grumbling in my stomach, the thirst for water, and the need for warmth. There was little I could do about it, since there was no power in this body, demonic or otherwise.

And I could feel it, tearing me from the inside out, that my soul was intact. For the first time, in a very long time, I felt true fear. I was small, weak, and crumbling – my conscience was now my own personal hell.

So, I called again.

TBC