A/n: Written purely for my pleasure. Hadriel is a forgotten angel, a relic of a time many did not witness, he's bitter and jaded but also angry. Dean is Dean.
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter.
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Stahr / noun: any of the heavenly bodies, except the moon, appearing as fixed luminous points in the sky at night. Middle English sterre, Old English steorra; Old High German sterra; akin to Old High German sterno, Old Norse stjarna, Latin stella, Greek astḗr.
Immortality was not as extraordinary as the humans made it out to be, creations of imaginative entities such as vampires and werewolves, elves and fairies, anything to make their young, fragile and so very very quick demise more bearable, their imagination acted as a gateway to a life beyond death.
Hadriel wanted nothing more than to cease the endless, meaningless existence.
Sometimes he wished a knight of hell would awaken and drive an angel blade through his heart just so he could have the sweet relief of absolute death. Of being carted off to the endless sleep where he would know nothing and do nothing because he would no longer be anything.
Not a being of divine energy. Nor an angel of the all mighty God. Certainly not an angel of the first legion, one older than the know-it-all Michael and his brat of a brother Lucifer, and one so forgotten his name was not written in any of the scriptures by his father's favorite scribe.
Hadriel one of the first of his kind to remain alive from battle. The first of many. The commander of a legion long forgotten in place of a coddled son's falling from grace. He wasn't upset per se that his name had not been remembered by the many he had seen birthed into heaven, had helped to hand rear from tiny fledglings to annoying beings of loyalty for their father.
He was however irked that his name meant so little that their father refused to give him a purpose after the world was constructed after he helped to cast out the darkness and lock her into another dimension and all the creatures God made out of pure curiosity but were too dangerous and too dark caged.
Sometimes in a fit of blasphemy, he wondered if the world his father had created on a whim of boredom had been worth saving, had been worth fighting for from every evil that he personally had slain in the name of God, for the Creator.
Millenniums have gone by with him functioning but not truly alive. He had seen the rise and the fall of so many human civilizations, the genocides and murders all screamed in the name of his father, of the helpless suffering at the hands of those with power and should he be capable of it he would have ended his life the moment Lucifer defied every rule written and jumped his way from the heavens and down to earth.
Had he known his life, his very creation itself would be nothing but an empty plight for recognition by his father who perhaps had forgotten him too, he would have begged for release, if not from his father then from his younger and reckless brother - dubbed Satan by the humans. The Devil.
He resented humans because they lived and died, lives so short it often felt as though he blinked and they would be returned to the earth as Adam had come from. He hated the fact that his father had given them an out, relief, while he was stuck and while he suffered.
Fragile, pathetic, deviously creative and smart little insects humans were - and a grudging part of him could see why God held his tiny toys in such high esteem. Why he marveled at every insignificant thing they had done during the first several thousand years.
Hunting, breeding, fire, structures.
Hadriel tilted his head slightly, the thousands of voices from above all chattering in panic, they were searching for someone, the higher ranking angels keeping their urgency from the lower ranking ones, someone was missing.
Findhim. Searcheverywhere. FINDHIM. .FATHER!
God was missing.
He laughed aloud and had he been in the mood for associating with the slave masters and slaves alike he would have no doubt startled a few of the paranoid and power-hungry creatures who were so quick to slap chains around one of their brethren's necks because of skin pigmentation.
From where he was lounging Hadriel continued to laugh until his sides hurt, all the while the voices grew louder and louder as the mindless and mission-oriented beings of light and supposedly good all turned into a frenzy of fear, what if's flooding the connection until he disconnected it.
For the very first time since he had helped to capture God's sister, his aunt by all rights, and banish her upon his father's will, he felt happiness at their fear, at their chaos at their dark thoughts of being abandoned by their father.
Now they could see how he had felt. They would feel it deep within as their reason for existence crumbled.
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Stars were nothing but balls of gas that illuminated the space Amara had left behind, that God kept as a memento of the sister he had banished because creation was his job, not hers. Despite what the humans believed there would trillions upon trillions of stars the number was actually one that could not be counted. Stars were a strange conception, something God had thought of sparingly but made real none the less. The balls of gas being innumerable and always dying just as they were always sparking to life as if two stones were smacked together to create their flame.
For every human that had lived, there was a star, that star breaking and splitting as the first life multiplied, as they bred. It was a curious thing that stars did that not even God understood because stars weren't organisms, they had no heartbeats or sentient intelligence, just gas-tightly wound that shined.
He liked the area between earth and heaven the most. The calm of darkness where the voices of the humans nor the angels could reach. Where he could spread his wings that melded perfectly in the void of where Amara had birthed.
He watched as millions of stars spawned while millions more snuffed out, for every life welcomed another came to an end, the natural balance of the so-called life his father had made, a biological imperative, a must in the 'circle of life'.
Too bad it didn't apply to his first creations, his beloved celestial children.
Hadriel paused in his musings, angsty as usual even he would admit, his wings spreading and a moment later he was flying through the inky mass that was known as space, a tug in his naval pulling him towards an area in a virtual sea of darkness and twinkling light.
Coming to a stop he tilted his head as a star was born, the tiny barely there thing that signified the starting of another human, a fetus at this point from the looks of it. Circling the tiny mass he wrapped it in a loose fist, the energy as minuscule as it was, radiated power in the sense he knew it would be a beaming star, one that would stand out from the rest.
It also made him wonder what human life could possibly call out to him.
"Interesting..." he had time to find out, months if the human gestation was anything to go by.
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The first shrill cries of the baby made him look up from the stain of what might have been blood on the tile within the room, pushing away from the wall and the glamour kept up to prevent the humans from seeing him he peered down at the red wrinkled face of -
"Dean Alexander Winchester…" his mother, if he recalled, was named Mary and the father John.
The irony wasn't lost on Hadriel and had the man been named Joseph he would have wondered if little Dean Winchester would have been the second coming of Christ.
The newborn was bawling, toothless mouth opened wide as he screamed for the entire hospital to hear and Hadriel had to smile, a barely there curve of his lips as the wrinkled birth liquid covered hands waved in the air in protest. It was this vulnerable creature that called to him all those months ago, the pull now stronger the longer the child cried, not even accepting the bare breast from his mother.
"Why won't he feed? Is something wrong with him?" the woman was on the verge of panic, a young mother who was as inexperienced as any other, the father equally so. The nurse shook her head, wiping away the afterbirth that had been missed from Dean's curled fist.
"No, no dearie. Sometimes all they need is a little coaxing, perhaps he's not hungry. Not all babies feed directly after birth, they just like to make their presence known." she chuckled a bit but Hadriel could see the doubt in Mary's eyes.
Rolling his eyes he stepped closer and gently brushed his fingers over the impossibly soft skin of the baby's forehead and it was as if a switch had been flicked off, the screeching cries dying down instantaneously and like a leech Hadriel watched the boy latch onto the exposed nipple to fill the room with loud sounds of suckling.
Mary jumped a bit but held the small bundle closer as he nursed, John leaning closer to press a kiss to the mess of blond hair "We did it Mary, we made this perfect little person."
Hadriel turned away not needing to see the man's tears, his wings taking him away from the room.
Drifting into space he meditated, dulling the confusion of his brethren as they continued to search for their missing father even if they had already come to the realization that should their father not want to be found he would not be. No meager run of the mill angel would be able to locate God no matter what instruments they used. It would take an archangel or higher, with higher being him and there was no feasible reason for him to volunteer to find a father that had abandoned him millenniums ago.
Let them all suffer.
And should they burn in the pursuit to find God he would happily sit back and watch as they fell in despair.
He had done his father's will, and he had been done for a very long time.
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[end of chapter 1]