Disclaimer: I wish I owned Supernatural. Then I could meet Jared and Jensen and Misha… But I don't. Eric Kripke does. I think. Well, I guess technically the CW does.
My last happy memory of my time in Heaven is this:
It was my vacation time, you might say. Or, rather, the whole garrison's vacation time. Every garrison had their own break time, and mine was on theirs. All the angels in my garrison had time off.
I don't remember where we were in Heaven, but I remember all my favorite brothers (and sister) were there: Uriel, Balthazar, Anna, and (my favorite) Castiel.
We were just talking and laughing and joking around when suddenly Uriel asked, "What did God think of your newest song, Sandy?"
Sandy. That's me. It's short for Sandalphon, the angel of song and prayers.
"I don't know," I replied. "He didn't say anything about it."
"She probably didn't even ask," Balthazar said idly, flying in lazy circles with his honey-coloured wings. We didn't have to hide our wings in Heaven. My own giant, glossy pair of wings with their pearly white feathers blew in the gentle breeze. My wings were my pride and joy. They looked like Michael's and Lucifer's wings. Mine were minuscule in size compared to theirs, though.
Maybe that was why Castiel and I had a more profound bond than I had with Anna and Uriel. We were both middle-ranking angels. We both had minor roles. Our only memorable features were our beautiful wings. His were midnight black, but they had streaks of dark, dark indigo and silver that flashed when he moved.
"I did!" I exclaimed. "He just didn't answer."
"Oh, c'mon, sis," Balthazar says with a small laugh. "You-"
"She's right, Balthazar," Castiel said, jumping to my defense. "Michael and Raphael have already told us all that they haven't heard anything from him in a long time. And since Gabriel's gone, God's definitely not speaking to him."
"Sing us the song, sister," said Anna. "We will tell you if it's good or not."
Sister. That's what I was. That's what I still am. In heaven, I was a female. Angels were nothing, or rather, neither, but we referred to each other as sister or brother based on looks. I had a feminine looking face, and girly wings so I was referred to as sister.
And so I sang it. Because that's what I do. I sing. After all, my name literally means "The song of God". I was called that in the days of old, when people still prayed to angels.
And they all applauded and judged it as good.
I remember that now, as my earthly vessels sleeps, because i want to remember my brothers as they were, not as what they are about to become. Murderers. This teenage girl who hosts me sees it as a dream, but i know it as a now long-lost memory.
It is a memory from before I fell. And I remember now because I won't be able to much longer. Because I fell, they are hunting me down.
And they're about about to catch up.