St. Katherine's Convent, Minnesota, 1989

It was shortly after Brynn's tenth founding day – though it went uncelebrated – that Michael appeared in her room with a wide smile.

"Take my hand." He said before she could even say hello. "I have a surprise for you."

Ever a curious child, Brynn did as told and felt the now familiar feeling of being flown up into Heaven. Michael had taken her to the plains where the angels flew leisurely, taking the time to stretch their wings and simply enjoy being in the air. She had watched them a few times, in awe of the of the brilliant wings that were a different color for every angel and expanded at least double the length of their bodies.

But there was a small building at the edge of the plain now, and Michael lead her to it. The building turned out to be a stable and in it an angel with wings the color of a raven's feathers was brushing out the fur of an actual Pegasus.

Her jaw dropped and the little girl inside her screamed. Sure, true to her nature she had always admired horses and ponies, but this one was far better than anything she could have imagined. The stallion's body was a warm purple, its wings, hair and tail a deep red. He shook his feathers similar to the way an angel would as the raven winged angel ran his brush over them.

"He's beautiful…."

"He's yours." Michael informed.

Brynn's already wide eyes went to her guardian. "Mine?"

He nodded, still smiling widely. "I thought you might like to learn to fly."

If it was possible, her eyes went wider. "Oh, yes please!"

Michael chuckled. "Well go on then, introduce yourself."

Brynn hesitantly stepped into the stable with the angel and the Pegasus, reaching to the latter's face to allow him to sniff her. Once he had, she slowly moved her hand into his mane, marveling at how soft it was. "Hello. My name's Brynn. What's yours?"

"He doesn't have a name yet." The raven winged angel informed. "You'll have to give him one."

Brynn studied the stallion before her a moment. "Jude." She decided. "He's the patron saint of hope."

"So he is." The angel nodded. "It's a good name."

"What's yours?"

"Castiel. It's an honor to meet your Braelynn."

She winced at the sound of her full name. "Brynn, please."

Once she was finally up in the air with the angels, it took her a moment to get her bearings. The saddle that Castiel had taught her to put on Jude held firmly to both the Pegasus and herself, but being up in the air was something else entirely. Still, the angels were very sure of themselves, never bumping into one another, never wavering once. And Jude was clearly far more used to flying than she was if the way he was gliding and swooping without her needing to guide him was any indication.

After a while, Brynn slowly got the courage to put her arms out. The wind was wiping around her, her hair was flying back behind her, and absolutely nothing seemed to matter. Not the nuns, not the demon with the yellow eyes, not even being normal. She was completely free.

This was amazing. This was perfect.

This was far too good to be true.

St. Katherine's Convent, Minnesota, 1991

It was under the sunshine and blue sky of a good day that things went horribly wrong. Brynn sat under one of the trees in the yard behind the convent, practicing her Enochian with one of the books from Heaven's library. She had collected a far few by now, stored in her backpack to be kept with her at all times. Balthazar occasionally complained about how she never returned her books, but they always appeared back in her backpack whenever she gave them back to him.

The sound of angel wings made her look up, but she did not recognize the three angels that stood before her. Then again, they took on vessels on Earth, so it was possible she had seen them in Heaven.

"Hello Braelynn."

"Hello. Who are you?"

There was an air of tension in their voices that made her uneasy, a feeling she had long since stopped associating with angels. Closing her book and sliding it into her backpack she stood. "Where's Michael?"

"Michael has sent us to...dispose of you."

"...What?" the child's voice came out small, her mind trying to rationalize the angel's words, trying to find some meaning of the word 'dispose' that didn't mean...

"He's sick of you, Braelynn."

"You're lying!" She accused.

"Why would I lie?"

"Michael's my friend! He cares about me!"

All three of them laughed, "Is that really what you think?"

"It's the truth!"

"No, it's not." A silver knife that Brynn recognized as an angel blade slid down from one of the angel's sleeves. "You're a freak of nature that was never meant to exist. It is our job to eradicate you. Any last words?"

Brynn couldn't answer the question, too choked up to speak. The angel dove at her with the knife and she shut my eyes, bracing for the impact. It never came.

It took her a few moments to open her eyes to find she was standing in the middle of a field. Where, she didn't know, but she could no longer see the convent. She couldn't see anything but weeds and overgrown grass.

She had teleported. Michael had told her once that demons could do that, so with her abilities it was possible she could as well, but she'd never tested it.

Michael….Oh God, Michael…

Brynn fell to her knees and chocked on a sob, the voice of the last person she wanted around echoing in her ears. "Brynn…" She held her hands over her ears in a futile attempt to block the demon out. While Michael's spell kept him from finding her, the connection remained, allowing the demon to give her nightmares and reach into her head at her weakest moments.

And through her entire life, it's doubtful that there was a moment weaker than this.

"Brynn!"

"Stop it…"

"Why should I? This is the best moment of all time! Your little angel friend turned on you!"

"Shut up."

"Make me."

She could feel them, her powers. She always could, at times it was like a parasite living inside of her, fighting to take control, wanting to burst forth and cause as much destruction as possible.

"Aw look at you! You actually thought that angel of yours loved you! Now look! You're all alone!"

"Get outta my head!"

"Not a chance! You're mine now!"

"Never!" She shouted, her voice scratchy with tears. "We both know you can't find me unless I come to you willingly."

"Oh you will. You haven't got any other choice!"

The demon's words were true, but she did not want them to be.

"Leave me alone!"

Power burst from the small child in waves, ripping up the grass and trees within a twenty-foot radius and leaving her in a dirt crater crying.

Somewhere cold, 1992

Dear Michael,

I don't know where I am. I suppose that's good, as it means you don't know either. I won't bore you with stories of how I've tried to rationalize your actions, in fact I want you to know that I've elected to ignore them. Well, to some degree at least. Perhaps I've romanticized your memory, but I'd like to focus more on the positive moments we shared. You telling me stories about your father and your siblings, teaching me Enochian, flying above the plains with me and Jude. You were my best friend, and though you were stern and hard-headed, I always thought of you as a kind, brave angel who loved his family very much. A family I once thought myself a part of.

Perhaps the man I knew did not exist, perhaps he was only a face you put on for me, but he is the man I choose to remember. He is the reason that I am still alive, and I will always love him.

He also taught me that I had a choice, that I didn't have to be part of the plan to bring about the Apocalypse, despite how appealing what the demon offers may sound some days. It is because of him that I have not taken that offer, though I confess that I have come rather close more than once.

If even a part of that man was real, I sincerely hope you hold onto him. He was a good man, and I wish that more people got to know him.

Amen.

Brynn sighed and flipped the notebook she had purchased with someone else's credit card shut. Far too used to praying, first to God then to the angels she made friends with, it had been difficult to get out of the habit for the sake of her own safety. Praying now would alert whomever she was praying to to her presence, and the fact that she was flying under the radar was the only reason her assassins had not come to finish the job.

She ran her fingers over the protective runes on her arm, wondering what had gone wrong. Perhaps she didn't understand angels as well as she thought she did – perhaps she didn't understand anything as well as she thought she did. It seemed a cruel pattern; first her parents, then the nuns, then Michael. All had loved her, or at least she thought they did, and all had turned on her.

A feeling of bitterness overcoming her, she flipped the notebook open again, the pencil flying into her open hand.

Dear God,

Screw you.

Amen.