Just some slightly macabre musings of Cas somewhere in seasons 4-5. Disclaimer: I don't own any of these beautiful, tortured souls ;)
This life, it destroys them. Sometimes it's obvious – it rips out huge chunks of their beings: of their flesh, their hearts, their souls – but sometimes it's more subtle. It picks at them so gently, so softly, that they don't even notice themselves unravelling, coming undone. They don't notice because they're so caught up in each other, in the hunt. You feel it. You know that those fragile beautiful threads that they call life are almost at their breaking points. And it saddens you to see that some humans can be so spiteful, so selfish, so wrong, when these two … these two have given everything.
This life, it takes everything from them. It took their mother – so sweet and caring. All she wanted was for her children to be brought up away from all the monsters and the nightmares. That was her one wish, and it took that from her as well as her life. It took their father from them, though not in the same way. Sure, it got him in the end too, but not before it corrupted and consumed him. His soul was black with a lust for revenge. And through him, it took away their childhood. When they should have been nurtured, cared for, looked after; when they should have been carefree and happy; they were learning to kill the very monsters and nightmares that their mother had tried to protect them from. So much for the boundless power of a mother's love.
This life, it's all they know. It's all they have left. So they don't complain – how can they? – when it rips them apart. When it gouges out their eyes to see, when it tears off their ears to hear, their tongues to speak, when it pulls out their lungs to breathe, their hearts to love. And their souls? Hell has so tight a hold on them that they have not even a whisper of a hope of redemption. Even when there's nothing left of them, but a heap of rotting flesh on bones, it picks at them like crows on the carcass of a hanged man. It picks them clean.
So now, when there's nothing left of them, but a pile of sun-bleaches bones, still it asks more of them. And still they give.
Depressing, I know, but review anyway!
xx