At first I didn't like Castiel. But our heavenly tax accountant has grown on me, and I'm growing fond of him. Please review, and as always I answer all reviews on my blog.
Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.
Humans. Fragile, messy, incomplete humans. They're small, weak, ruled by emotion. Their tiny minds can't grasp the greater whole. Their feelings cloud their judgment. They cannot grasp the idea of sacrifice for the greater good. They do not understand.
They do not realize what it is that stalks them, what hunts them in the darkest nights and even under the shining sun. These hellspawn are animals. They care nothing for birthrights, or dignity, or the niceties which men accord to one another in war. With these there can be no parlay. There can be no surrender. There can be only victory or defeat.
For some Above, humans are seen as collateral damage, pawns in the greater game. They are the small ones, the first line of defense. They are the canaries in our coalmine. At least, that's what we're supposed to think.
But in their imperfection I have found beauty. Their will to survive, their strength in adversity, their loyalty to one another; these things have raised in me a strange sense. I have gotten too close, and I now see them as they are, instead of as they are supposed to be.
The Scholar-Son. His mind is like a library, his heart is ever questioning. He is a slave to his guilt. He chooses to feel responsible for the deaths of those whom he loved, and he wallows in that guilt, using it to fuel his fire, to feed his rage. He uses the guilt to protect the only things that he has left. He is like a wildfire, burning all in his path, friend or foe.
The Warrior-Son. He is a slave to his appetites, but he is ever obedient. It seems that no matter what is asked of him, no matter what doubts may gnaw him, he will obey if he believes in the one who asks. It does not matter if, in the end, it will destroy him. He still obeys. An automaton? But no. He obeys because he knows that it is right for him to do so. His is a slow, creeping flame, his soul glowing like an ember until it flares into a blaze.
The Warrior wants peace. The Scholar wants revenge. Which is the better weapon? Why, if humans are so insignificant, are we depending so wholly upon one? And in the end, which one will survive?