AN- This fic is for DezzieWinter who gave me the idea of doing a psychoanalysis of Castiel. So thanks!
And please send out your prayers for the wonderful writer Jesse A Harper, the author of the brilliant and rather awe-inspiring SPN fic Problem girl, who passed away shortly after Christmas. I hope she's happy in Heaven, and knows that she will be missed. I hope she knows that she has actually inspired me to write a lot of the stories I've written. I was unfortunately not personally acquainter with her, and knew her only from her AN's, but her work was good enough to convince me of what a wonderful person she was.
The world is a little less bright without her and her talent today.
We will miss you, Jesse.
RIP
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I've always been the youngest of an abysmally large family. The little fledgling. I never met my father, and I was always taught to be emotionless. I was a good soldier. A good angel.
And then I fell.
I never expected it to happen. But my time on earth with Dean and Sam changed me in ways I couldn't have foreseen…they TAUGHT me. They taught me to live, to enjoy life, and because of them, the love that we angels instinctively have for all creatures grew.
Dean and Sam always looked at me like I was…something more than a fledgling. They made me feel like I was the powerful angel I was, not a little, inexperienced fledgling. They looked at me like I was important, and nobody had ever looked at me like that.
When we were told to kill Suriel, my heart broke. It hurt. I had genuinely liked her. She had helped me so much in heaven. But what hurt more was that I would hurt Sam and Dean when I killed her. I felt something inside me shrivel up and die.
I suppose that's when it all began. My fall. Me loving the Winchesters more than anything, except my father. I had spent centuried looked at like I was the stupid one, the toddler incapable of doing anything, and though Dean sometimes did look at me like that, I could see the fondness he hid behind his words.
That's why when we were looking for Eve, and Dean called me a baby in a trenchcoat, he actually hurt my feelings. I had spent centuries looked at like that, and I had hoped they looked at me differently. Were my powers really all that Dean valued? Was that the only reason he liked me?
They never realized. How would they? They didn't have a family like mine. They were always there for each other. But who was there for me? The one time I needed Dean to do something for me, he refused. No one is ever there for me. I'm alone, and I know it. I'll always be alone. When I go, I know they will forget me. I don't want to be forgotten.
When I was with Crowely, there was this pain…he reminded me of what my family was. Crowley treated me the way my family did. It hurt…hurt so much. But I'd never let him know that. Ever. I stood strong, because that was what I wanted them to see. My family. The Winchesters and Bobby and the angels. I loved them all. Why wouldn't they love me back?
But Dean did consider me a friend. And I only realized how close we were when I watched him break apart when he found out about me and Crowley. Anger. Anguish. Pain. Betrayal. I could see them and feel them like the emotions were mine. I never wanted to hurt you Dean. Never. You were and are my brother. I raised you from Hell, you taught me to be the man I am today. Hurting you was never my plan. I just wanted to help. To protect you. To keep you and Sam and Bobby from getting hurt. I wanted you all to have a chance at a normal life.
And then when I came to my senses with the after I pushed the souls back into the purgatory, and after Leviathan's took control, and I lost control of my body, all I had were regrets.
I regret never telling Dean, Sam and Bobby how important they are to me.
I regret never making my brothers and sisters see that I am not a child.
I regret working with Crowley.
But what I regret the most is that I will not be remembered. I will be forgotten. Cast aside like a piece of paper…a dirty paper. No longer useful. I have no powers anymore. I don't even control my own body.
I am powerless.
Miserable.
Lost.
And all I have are memories. Memories tinged with joy and melancholy. Memories of men with green and blue-hazel and blue eyes who gave me a home when I fell. Men who will forget me, and would never realize that I loved them. Men who would never understand that all I wanted was for them to be happy.
I know. I was the youngest. I am the least spectacular. I am the uninteresting, the least powerful.
And I will be the one to be forgotten.
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So? How was it? I hope you liked it. It was harder than Michael. But please review! I think it went decently.
R&R.