Emmanuel could hear it sometimes. He could hear whispers from above, angels screaming out. They spoke of paradise, and they spoke of forever in soft, hushed tones.
Yet they screamed and cursed the names Castiel and Dean Winchester.
Emmanuel never knew why he felt like it was personally offensive. Nor did he know why the name Dean Winchester evoked such sharp feelings of longing, guilt, and pain.
Daphne was always so kind and understanding. She would never pry if Emmanuel were feeling particularly off, and he was eternally grateful for that. He didn't want to think about the latest screamings. Dean was the reason for everything going to ruin. Dean was the reason such a good and obedient soldier turned and walked away from them. Dean was hardly good enough for anything, why would Castiel do so much for him?
Emmanuel felt anger roil up inside of him, something screaming at him to protect Dean from these assholes.
Emmanuel went to church and tried to absolve himself of that sin.
He knew he couldn't keep Daphne in the dark. She was far too perceptive for him to lie to her. When she gently pushed and begged him to tell her what was wrong, he crumbled. He told her of the whisperings, the feelings, and she listened intently.
She held him close afterwards and he was so grateful when she didn't let go.
These angels hated Castiel. Emmanuel listened as he heard of his doings: betraying heaven, choosing a human, dealing with a demon. And not just any demon, but the king of Hell. They spoke of the creatures, the Leviathan, and Emmanuel found he was afraid. When they described the creatures, the angels spoke in a trembling clarity, and Emmanuel realized that day that there was much to be afraid of. He knew that there truly was a hell on Earth.
He liked helping people, helping those who lost their way. He liked knowing that he made a difference in someone's life, and he liked knowing that someone's life just got a little bit better, a little bit easier.
It was then that he heard a quiet voice, a younger one, that spoke of Dean and Castiel as heroes. It spoke of them stopping the apocalypse (Emmanuel could feel his mind spin at that) and saving hundreds of lives, all of this along with Dean's brother. The voice said they should not hate them.
The voice was overpowered and drowned out by those who disagreed.
Emmanuel stared at the man dead at the bottom of his porch stairs. His face was horrendous; bloody and beaten, yet cruelly twisted into a perpetual smug crazy that spoke of terrible evils. He raised his eyes to see who had killed it. There the feelings were again, so strong now, clawing at his chest and heart, screaming for him to run up and hug this man, kiss him, hold him and never let go.
Emmanuel didn't understand these feelings at all.
"Dean," the man introduced himself. Emmanuel could feel his eyes grew slightly. He could hear the shouts of the angels about this man. He could see the recognition in the other man's eyes.
"Emmanuel," he replied.
He knew immediately that that was the wrong answer.