I watched every angel fall. I watched my brothers leave the home they'd had longer than humans had had Earth. And, as I watched, that was the first time I cried.
Sad didn't even begin to explain how I felt. I was angry and disappointed and uncomfortable and I didn't know who with, but I was. I was confused, mostly. I'd always loved. Always, before that moment, but I'd never felt these other emotions that were bombarding my mind.
I suppose I never actually loved, like humans do. Humans love each other and dogs and cats and things, and Castiel loved bees, it's beautiful, really. While I was enamored with such things and I cared for my brothers, maybe I did not love them. Perhaps I was as indifferent to them as my brothers.
But I did care for them, and that was enough. They were, well, they were dicks, but I cared about them because they were my brothers. While I never fought in heaven, they did, and half of them enjoyed it. Some of them enjoyed slaying their family, leaving their home in shambles. Yeah, they were dicks.
Swearing was new to me. It wasn't something you did in heaven, and as an angel in suppose I shouldn't have started doing it on Earth. There were lots of things like that. I didn't eat in heaven, I shouldn't eat on Earth. I didn't sleep in heaven, I shouldn't do it on Earth. I wasn't proud in heaven, I shouldn't be proud on Earth. That was a simple thing, though. Pride was a sin and that was still off limits.
"Hello?" I called out, my voice hoarse from already doing so. "Anybody?"
There was a rustling in the bushes, a squirrel or something, probably. I looked at the bush carefully, walking past it with a steady precision. I walked, and walked, and walked and then walked a little more and then-
What's this?
What was that feeling in my stomach. It was strange, it hurt and it made me feel weak. I kept moving forward, and tried to forget about it, but I couldn't. It bothered me for three more miles before I finally found anything.
"Hello?" I called again.
It had been almost a week since the angels fell. I'd been homeless almost a week. I hadn't eaten, hadn't slept. I wouldn't have lasted but two more weeks at most. My hands trembled with either of two plagues, but I couldn't tell which. All I knew was that I shouldn't feel either. Angels don't eat. Angels don't sleep.
But I wasn't an angel anymore. Just a person. An ordinary, twenty year old girl who eats and sleeps and can't fly. And who doesn't know how to use a phone, cook anything, or operate a microwave. I'm not even sure I knew how to eat.
Perhaps it was fear that made my hands tremble. I was definitely afraid. Of what, I wasn't sure. But there was no doubt that I was scared.
"Somebody?" I pleaded with an empty looking house. "Anybody?"
The house was big, and looked pretty beaten up. Yellow siding was missing in some places and just dirty in others, one window was broken and boarded up, and the rail around the front porch was hanging away from itself. I almost felt sorry for the house before I remembered that one, the house can not feel, and two, I should not feel.
"Who are you?" a man asked as he approached me with a gun.
I looked from him, to the gun, to him again. I'd always been fascinated with humans. It was like a hobby, watching them and learning about them. I watched them with the same interest, though, that one might watch a giant poisonous spider with. I viewed them as dangerous, and I must have been right if they were the reason Lucifer had gone into the cage.
I never fully understood what happened, as I was created shortly afterward. I heard about it many times, people supporting him or telling me not to be like him. People told me the story and expected me to piece everything together, but I had questions. If God's angels were perfect, then why create humans? Is that why Lucifer did what he did? Because he didn't understand?
Does that mean I'm just like him? I mean, I know I didn't exactly help, but I was hoping that we would prevail. It must seem ironic, to hear of an angel hoping for anything, but I did. Maybe I am like him. Maybe I never really was a 'good little soldier.' The thought scares me. I had always been loyal to my father. Even when he was gone, I thought he would come. I hoped he would. Because I believed in him. I had faith.
I swallowed dryly before calling out to him again. "M- My name is Tatiana. P- Please put the gun down."
"What do you want?" he asked.
I looked at him again for almost a minute before I fully realized who he was. Dirty blonde hair, jade eyes, a gun? Who else could it be? (I now realize it could have been many other people.)
"You're Dean- Dean Winchester!" I breathed a sigh of relief.
It was his turn to look at me strangely, now. "What do you want?"
"I am- used to be an angel. A friend of Castiel's!" I pleaded, putting my hands up to show I had no weapon. "Is Castiel here? May I speak with him?"
He stared at me with a cold looking expression. Maybe it wasn't him. It probably wasn't. It was probably just some lookalike wanting to be famous. Of course it wouldn't be him. You can't just find Sam and Dean Winchester. People just don't get that lucky.
"Come in."