Is it any wonder that they call themselves the human race? They race against time, against other people, against themselves. They race for pride, for glory, for freedom, for love. At some point they must ask themselves, "Is winning what it's all about, or is there something that's more important?"

Angels don't race. We follow orders. End of story. The only things that are important to us are the Father, our faith in Him, and the orders handed down by Him. When He left, many angels didn't notice. The orders continued to be handed down the line and we went on. It wasn't until long after he was gone that I realized the orders weren't coming from the Lord.

There are many times I wish I were a part of this human race. To be able to think independently and move with sure steps of my own design. But these thoughts are recent. Too recent for my long life. Sometimes I just wish I could forget everything and start again. Human.

I know now that these thoughts started when I met Dean. Not on Earth, but in Hell. Despite the blackened ruin around him and in his soul, he still felt so undeniably human. I felt the desire to speak with him, the need. But it was only when the order was given that I was allowed to go to my new charge.

He was an enigma. I believed it to be a human thing, then. But as time passed, I realized it was him. Just Dean that I couldn't figure out. It was my first moment of doubt. All humans were supposed to trudge through the dirt and have little faith and be so unfailingly predictable. I was always told this was so. They may have been God's favorite, but they were not perfect. Many consorted with Lucifer himself.

Dean was simultaneously all and none of these things. He destroyed every preconception I ever had about humans in one fell swoop simply by being who he is. All those preconceptions came from other angels, angels like Uriel. And so I doubted the credibility of my kind for the first time in my long life.

And it was then that I began to break apart from Angel kind.

Emotions were shocking. When Dean ignited them that day in the beautiful room, I saw as humans saw for less than a second. But it was enough. I chose Dean over my own people and became a rebel.

Looking back now, it's almost funny. The Devil has been dealt with, Sam has a soul again, Dean and I went to Purgatory and back. And there I was, thinking the worst thing that could ever befall me was this strange but not wholly unpleasant feeling I got whenever I was around Dean. It was novel, then. Terrifying. Still is. But the funny thing is that the worst to befall me was years later and of my own volition.

I wish I had the sense not to hurt him. Despite how painful it was to have all those souls pressing and tearing at my grace and vessel, what hurt the most was hurting Dean. I set out to save him again. I didn't want him to go through all the pain and horror of another Apocalypse. I watch him sleep some nights and truly believe that what I did was much worse.

I've made mistakes. I've hurt people. I've killed Angels. My brothers.

Some I regret.

Balthazar...

Others? I would do it again. But this time, it would be done differently.

Raphael...

What was it all for? I spend a very long time wondering. I've come to the conclusion that it was not only for freedom, but for pride, glory, and love.

I wanted to be free to make my own decisions and give others that freedom as well. I was a part of Team Free Will, as Dean had once told me. He was very happy that I wasn't on Team Flying Dickwads anymore. I didn't know what a dickwad was, but I told him I could still fly, thank you. He laughed. I like his laugh.

I wanted to be the one to finally put Heaven at peace and the Apocalypse to rest for good. I would have done all of it, myself, and I would have known it was me. Not any of my brethren. Me, the pariah. The one they separated out because he felt and he doubted. I could return to Heaven without silent scorn being cast my way every time. I could finally say I freed you all. Go live and be merry.

I wanted Dean to look at me with respect and awe and adoration. He could turn to me with grateful eyes and want me in his personal space because I had done so much for him, his brother, and the world. I had "taken one for the team". Dean would point to me and say, "That's my Angel. He saved us all."

I wanted Dean to take me in his arms and tell me he loved me.

And I identified the problem. "I want". Why not add greed to all of my other sins?

Mistakes. Dean. Free Will. Sin. Falling...

Maybe I am like the human race. But not enough to really warrant the "race" title. I asked Sam if there was some human equivalent of a half-race. Sam said you either don't finish or you're running a half marathon. I think he was joking.

But after witnessing several half marathons and a few full marathons to see what I was comparing it to, I like the term. I am a part of the Angel Half Marathon. It has a sort of ring to it, I think.

I may not like where I've been or know where I'm going, but I'm perfectly happy here. Dean gets annoyed when I want to stay during the night, but I like sitting with him. With him in one bed and Sam snoring loudly in the other, I know they're safe. Yes, they're ready for any threat at any time. If I move a muscle, I'd likely wake them up even though I'm not visible to the naked eye and completely intangible.

They don't know I'm here and they never will. They still think I'm watching over Fred Jones. But he has so many people bustling around to care for him that I'm practically obsolete. Whenever I think of going back to Heaven, I suddenly dread the very thought.

So I came here. I'm always needed here, even if they don't know it.