Every morning, waking up with Vicky next to him, his first thought is; 'My name is Misha Collins' and he smiles.
He's an actor, a baker, and a candlestick maker, he plays an angel on a TV show, he guided writers and creators to make a story he knew and something the world could learn from.
And though he slept with nightmares, though he slept with a gun and angel blade under his pillow, though he worried whenever an unexplained something happened, Misha loved his life, loved his tiny computer business and loved his wife-y.
Which was more than what Dmitri Krushnic could say. Dmitri was a man on a downward spiral, he was a hated man, he was the lazy drunk and miserable man at the end of the road that everyone avoided. He wanted a life that would mean something, he wanted a life that was more than eat, shit, work and sleep. He prayed to gods he didn't believe in, he prayed for an adventure and he prayed for someone, anyone, to save him from this eternal boredom.
And so, an angel graced him, answered his prayer, and gave the man an adventure of a lifetime. With Dmitri's body, apocalypses were avoided, lives were saved, and more angels had fallen. Because of Dmitri, an entire planet was saved, though he had done next to nothing.
That angel, in 2005, whispered into the ear of a writer with the last remaining remnants of his grace.
He walked that writer's dreams, told him a story that echoed through history, that monsters whispered about in the dark of the night and that hunters chattered about around a bar.
'The Winchester Gospel' wasn't a book, it was a TV show.
A few years passed, and season four auditions came around, Dmitri auditioned under the name Misha, and of course won the role.
"He's perfect, he's what I wanted." Kripie raved, pointing at Misha with a manic grin. "This is perfect, this is Castiel!"
And so, he took up the name Castiel once again.
Looking at the overcoat he was to wear, Misha couldn't stop the small smile. It wasn't exactly the same, it was brown instead of black, Jimmy Novak was a day-time ad salesmen and not a drunk, the Winchester's were named Dean and Sam and Castiel was still hopelessly loyal to them. Castiel was still hopelessly in love.
It felt so strange, to be acting like this again, being the foot solider to archangels, being the pawn in God's game, being the Winchester's personal atomic bomb.
But he wasn't, not anymore.
Standing in this dressing room, he was Misha Collin's, actor and husband and undeniably human Misha Collins. He wasn't Castiel, the Winchester Sword or a piece to be used in God's great plan.
"Do you hear me, Father? This is the greatest blasphemy I can think of." He mutters to himself in the mirror, making his tie a bit crooked as he leaves to the set, his hair mused and sticking up at all angles. A voice calls 'Action!', and Misha saunters through the barn doors, facing the man, Jensen Ackles, with a glower and sharp eyes. He hears a different voice whisper vaguely behind him; 'I'm so proud of my son.'
'I don't need your pride.' Is all Misha thinks in return, reaching with two fingers to touch Jim's forehead. 'I don't need you.'
Waking up, it's the second thought that crosses his mind; 'I don't need you.'
I'm surprised no one else has ever thought of this. There may be more if there's enough demand for it.