Warning! Mental disorders, depression, child abuse, drug abuse, and alcohol abuse are mentioned throughout this chapter.

The Observer

God loves his angels. Though most of them believe otherwise, he truly does adore them. Yes, he's made mistakes and plenty of them. He disappeared from their lives and ignored their calls for help. However, he has tried to right those wrongs with the help of the Winchesters, Lydia, and Joshua.

Since making the Winchesters the angels' caretakers, life has been better for God's angels. Most of them; that is.

There are still little ones suffering out in the cold and dark world of humanity. The angels the king of hell sent to horrible homes so long ago? Many have yet to be found. Same can be said for the demons. Out of all the demons God had Lydia de-age, only two have been found and given proper homes by the Winchesters. God doesn't blame the Winchesters, of course. There is a time for everything. Sadly, the time for those angels and demons to be found has still not come. God knows this, and yet, he sometimes longs to bend the rules.

In the dark, a baby angel sobbed. He was curled up into a tight ball in the corner of some demolished room. His face was hidden and his feathers were so matted it was impossible to see the true color of his wings. Yet, God still knew which of his beloved angels the crying child was.

Stepping out of the shadows, God knelt down to the child's level. "All in good time, my child," God reassured. He reached out a gentle hand, brushing at his son's matted feathers. The angel didn't react. Instead, he sobbed harder, unable to hear or feel his father's reassurance.

God didn't pull back his hand. "I'm sorry, but I can't push things like this. It's unfair, I know, but his is how it must be. What you go through will help you grow, my son. I only wish that you could have had a much happier start like many of your other siblings. People are looking for you, though." A smile eased over Chuck's lips. "The Winchesters alone can only find angels when their angels sense another's grace nearby or have a dream telling them the way. Though, that is not your only option of salvation. The other two, Kali and Benny, they can use the men of letters machine to find you as well."

The crying angel looked up at last, but not because he suddenly became able to hear his father's words. No, it was the jiggling of the doorknob across the room that drew his attention.

"No, no," the angel whimpered. He scrambled backward, pressing himself up against the corner further. God could only watch.

The door finally flew open and with an aching heart, God stared at the broken heap of a woman before him. The woman was Kirsty Kensington, and long ago, she was happy like any other woman. She had friends, family, a heart filled to the brim with love, and eyes that sparkled with life. However, that all vanished when the voices came.

Now, Kirsty's eyes were glossy and red. From a lack of sleep, stress, booze, or drugs God didn't know. Through the years, God had seen many like her. Kirsty was suffering from a mental illness, one that could never be fully cured. Doctors offered her drugs and treatments, but they were all useless. As soon as the doctor broke the news, before she had even started, Kirsty had already lost hope. Her optimism drained away from her and so did her sparkle. She pushed away her friends and family and started down the downward spiral that led her here now to a darkened room and a crying baby angel.

"Still crying," Kirsty grumbled as she stepped into the room, her body swaying with each step. The angel in the corner let out a heart-wrenching sob. "Stop it!" Kirsty threw her arms up into the air. "You're not real so just stop!"

The little angel covered his face to muffle his voice as best he could, but he was so worked up he couldn't drown himself out no matter what he tried.

"I said stop!" the lamp that had been sitting a few feet away suddenly appeared in Kirsty's hand. She chucked it, sending it flying right for the baby angel.

The angel screamed and ducked his head, but there was no need. With a wave of his hand, God pushed the lamp upward. It crashed loudly against the wall above the angel, sending shards raining down on top of him and the floor.

God looked back at Kirsty, expecting another attack, but instead found the girl down on her knees. She let out a few painful sobs of her own, wailing into the dark.

"Why are you here? The voices were bad enough, but this? A winged little freak?! Why?! Why is this happening to me?"

The angel and Kirsty sat in the cold, crying for a long time after that. Eventually, Kirsty left the room and the angel collapsed from exhaustion. With no prying eyes in sight, God traveled through the different ethnic planes until he was physically in the room where so much pain had been trapped in moments ago. Gingerly, God pulled his son up from the shard covered floor and held him close to his chest. The angel hummed softly in his sleep and curled around God like he had when God first created him.

In the closet of the room, a little nest the little angel had made up of old clothes and blankets was settled behind a few boxes and totes. God set his son down in the nest, pulling one of the softer blankets up and around him for warmth. God wished he could stay. He wanted to stay and protect his son from pain emanating from Kirsty and the rest of her home, but he couldn't interfere. There was a reason for everything. Every action, every word, and every second.

God pressed a kiss to his son's forehead, whispering a soft, "I'm sorry, Kamuel" before vanishing completely.

Moments later, God reappeared in a small living room with a scatter of papers all over the floor.

"Nice drawing, Michael."

God turned and smiled. Adam Milligan was peering over God's second oldest son's shoulder. The white winged angel had puffed up with pride at being complimented and a toothy grin had spread across his lips.

God had missed seeing that smile. He missed seeing all of his children's smiles.

"They look well," God commented to himself as he watched the two interact. He walked around the room, stopping when he was in touching distance of his two children. He knelt down, sitting cross-legged on the floor beside Michael. He reached out, stroking the wing closest to him, frowning when he noticed how dull the angel's wings were looking. "That time is almost upon us, I see," God whispered.

"Father?"

God turned, finding Joshua standing off to the side. "Is there anything we can do? Any action we can make to help in some way?"

God pulled back his hand from Michael's wing and folded it alongside his other hand beneath his chin. "One wrong move and it's all over," he sighed. "No, Joshua, we must let them decide what moves to make. That's the point of all this after all."

Joshua nodded. "Free will."

"Yes," God agreed. "Free Will.

Hey, guys, I'm back! Thanks for being patient with me the last month or so. I really appreciate it. I hope you enjoy the chapter. It is a pretty dark one to come back to, but that is all my muse was willing to put out. I'm happy to say that I managed to get a few fics written up for Supernatural and some other fandoms since I put WA on hiatus. I'm hoping to post most of them within the month, but we'll have to see how that goes. I also managed to plan out the plots for a few of my own works, but that's as far as I got with those because I was overseas for a few weeks.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy today's chapters. Talk to you all next week when I post the continuation.