Remembrance Day chapter! Also an opener for the chapter that I've started on and was too lazy to finish. That was two weeks ago…yeah. Anyways, here. Slightly depressing fluffy goodness.

Chapter Twenty Three: To Forget or Remember?

It started with a woman.

That's pretty much how every story starts. Bro's before Ho's and all that crap. This went further by a kilometer and a half over the moon, straight through Jupiter and headed for Pluto. But still. It started with a girl. A fiery one with black hair, blue eyes and the sweetest smile Gabriel had ever seen in all of his millennia of living. God, and when that girl finally turned into an adult wars would be fought just to kiss her on the cheek, if she let them. The perfect girl. The one everyone would want to be around, even the Goths and emo kids. At least, they would if she hadn't been the very first female in the entire history of the world. Not Eve. Shy, timid, shaky little Eve who wouldn't fight against Adam for anything in the world. Lilith. The same one who was dragged to Hell for giving into carnal sins that are pretty much the only thing that keep the world turning on it's axis. There was only one problem.

She was also Michael's first love.

Gabriel shuddered slightly, remembering the thunder and lightning covering the screams of anguish and fury as his brother took his wrath out on everything around him. Whether it was alive or not. Because he couldn't get at Lucifer, the lying snake that had stolen his fiery girl with black hair and blue eyes that had suddenly become cold and distant. The fiery girl who would become the most feared demon in the pit until the day she died, completely and truly. That Lilith. Michael wanted her so Lucifer took her. Raphael tried to talk her out of it while Gabriel only wanted what was best for his brothers, going so far as to drag her down himself before being stopped and nearly killed by his older brothers. The only thing that they could agree on three thousand years before the Fall was how much the wanted to rip his wings off and throw him to the earth.

Lilith was the breaking point of total massacre in Heaven. After Father had sentenced her to the pit, Lucifer rebelled for all that he had. Not because he loved her but because he finally had an excuse. And when he met her during his stint as the Devil he had realized something. She was nothing more than a whore. Three thousand years she had been down there and in that time, she'd spawned the seven deadly sins. Like he'd said, all because of a girl. A four million year war over a whore that was everybody's, nobody's and everyone in between's. Maybe if God hadn't given her free will, things would have been different. Brothers and sisters wouldn't have fallen to the earth in shame. Died with withered and broken wings. So many of Heaven's pawns had died and nobody but the Legion cared. They got over it quickly but the way things were shaping up after Legion, it seemed as though they were going to give it another go. For all that didn't happen and for what did, they were ready to restart a feud that nearly wiped the entire plane of existence off the map.

Maybe that was why he was here, staring at the blood red poppies that had come to mean so much from so little. Cupping one in his hand, he listened to the whispered prayer of family members still in tears and mourning. A soft gust of wind brought a few of them fluttering in his face. It felt nice. Just listening to prayers of forgiveness, love, hope, peace and wishes of light and happiness instead of pure pain and sorrow. There was still sadness but it was somehow…muted. Breathing in the poppy's scent, he sat cross-legged in the middle of Flanders Fields. The crosses surrounding him glowed white in the coming dawn and he felt a sense of peace. Maybe the poem was right. His voice carried smoothly as he recited it.

"In Flanders Fields the poppies blow,

Between the crosses, row on row,

That mark our place; and in the sky,

The larks, still bravely singing, fly,

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead. Short days ago,

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved, and were loved, and now we lie

In Flanders Fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die,

We shall not sleep though poppies grow

In Flanders Fields."

Something told him that the chuckleheads would enjoy this. After all, they had been daddy's little soldiers. Sam had lost track of what he was fighting for and maybe, he hadn't known from the very beginning. Dean knew but the motivation quickly changed. He just wanted his family together. Like a little child lost at sea with only a lifeboat big enough for two. Dean had given up his for Sam and John like his father would have done for Mary but in the end, perhaps it wasn't worth it. Maybe there was regret and maybe, there wasn't. Hunters belong in Flanders Fields, too. It could be a little piece of Eden, where there weren't any monsters to fight or brothers to kill. Where fathers don't ask the impossible and act surprised when the impossible happens. But this is reality, not a fictional Heaven where everything is perfect, white washed and fluffy.

Plucking the bright head off of one of the flowers, Gabriel brushed it against his cheek again and gave a small smile. Looking out over the field of poppies during the sunrise was a gorgeous sight. However, it was somewhat marred by the souls still holding tremulously to their worldly life, unwilling to leave their loved ones alone in their grief. As long as there was one known son, daughter or mother still alive there would be a soldier walking beside them. Sometimes they marched in pairs or squadrons, other times alone but this day they all came-well. Not exactly to life but there was something there. And then Gabriel felt it too. The slight tremble in the air announcing the words before they came to him.

A little girl. She sounded young and so, so scared. Dear God, please help my daddy. I know I haven't been a very good girl for mommy but I'll try harder. I'll clean my room, do my chores and even play with Amanda. Please, save my daddy! I don't want to be alone…

The dead soldier's heads moved from one soul to another as they bowed their heads in his direction. A young man who probably fought in WWI even had phantom tears cresting in his eyes. They didn't speak. They never did, since there was nothing left to say in this life until they moved on to the next. What the soldiers wanted was clear enough. So he went.

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He didn't quite regret it. Cornflower eyes gazed at the crying woman an the little girl clenching his fingers, eyes clenched in prayer and lips moving silently. Licking his lips, he mused, So this is Death. He flipped his hand over and watched as it made a pass through the sheets of his former bed. The bloodstains made it a little more…artistic, than they were before. Not all of them were from his impromptu writ-slitting, either. The stitches in his leg had been ripped after another nightmare. Closing his eyes against the memory, he wondered if he would go to Hell for what he had done. The Devil would surely welcome him…

"No to the first and yes to the last. The Devil welcomes any poor soul who steps up to condemn himself before actually being condemned."

The voice was unexpected, to say the least. Turning around quickly, he was faced with grim faced men and a golden haired teenager dressed up in old army fatigues. As he met the men's eyes, they gave him slow nods. A few of the younger ones gave a sharp salute. He was a Major, after all. There were memories in their eyes, too, but the kid's were the worst. What seemed like thousands of years of torment were captured in amber orbs. Major Neal Hardy wasn't one to feel pity since the day he lost his leg to shrapnel in the east, going down the exact same way as his friends in the Peacekeepers did. Smiling wistfully, he thought, I kinda miss those idiots.

He'd lain in that hospital bed for two months now because whenever the skin started growing back, he ripped it again in his night terrors. He felt weak and as his drill sergeant had said, only the strong survive.Neal knew he wasn't strong enough not to cry in front of his little Alice and if he started, Melissa was going to cry herself sick. God, she had a strong will but seeing him like this had just broken her. This in mind, he decided to stop ruining her life for good. She could be happy again. Marry a stronger man. Facing the ghosts again, he grunted, "Leave me be. I've done all I needed to so let me die."

The soldiers inclined their heads but not in agreement. It looked as though they were studying him. The boy shook his head bemusedly and his gaze didn't let up a single iota. "No can do, bucko. See, there's a man that I knew. He has the saddest look on his face and he thinks he's doing the right thing for his family. He believes that they're better off without him in their lives. Me? I just want to save him from the choice I nearly made. I want him to see what can change if he could only look past what he thought he's done to what he really did. Got any advice?"

Staring at him blankly, Neal muttered, "Go do something else with your afterlife, kid, and leave me to mine. Can't you see I want to be alone? Don't you know what I've done?" Face crumpling slightly, he choked, "There was this kid. I swear, she was the same age as my Alice. Big dark eyes and long chestnut hair. She, oh God, she got in the way. He was her father and sh-she just took the bullet. Fell to the ground and he didn't even look back. Her mother was screaming and I just kept thinking Alice. It could have been Alice. I killed a kid. I'm a monster. It's not something that I can ever forget."

"So don't."

"…that's shit advice, kid."

Sighing patiently, the teen shifted and started to stand. Walking up to him slowly, he held up his palms and looked at him. Neal could swear that he could see the tainted soul beneath it. "Monsters don't feel. They don't regret what they've done. They don't swear, drink or just stare at a wall for hours and hours wondering what could have happened differently. Monsters don't grieve for people they don't know. Monsters don't die for a cause that they believe in and make a difference for the better, even if it is for just one person. Heroes, on the other hand. Heroes win and mourn for the losses of both sides, crying at night because of the pictures and scrubbing at blood that just won't go away. Heroes do what they can to get away from the pain because it is what made them heroes. They put themselves through torture so others don't have to. Still think you're a monster?"

"Yes."

"Then you're still human. As much as a human can be, anyways. Let me tell you a story." Tugging impatiently on his hand, the blonde brought him into the hospital's rooftop garden. "Look at the water. Look at it and listen."

"The war that I was in was the worst. Everybody says that but they didn't have to do what I did. In cold blood, I murdered my brothers and sisters because they had different beliefs than my own. All because there were two sides and neither could understand the other and if they did, maybe they just hated each other. My brother and I were forced to take a side. We were told that this was good and that was evil. This was pure and that was tainted. Kill them and heal us. So I did. All around me there was fighting, blood and flashing metal but there were no tears. Not a single person cried for the family that they were slaughtering. Some called me weak because my eyes would always be red by the end of a battle, nose stuffed up so much it sounded like my voice was coming from a hole in the ground.

I wouldn't talk to anyone. For all those years that I fought, nobody heard me speak until the final blow was struck and one of my brothers was pretty much gone for good. Maybe I was the only one who realized that there was no right and wrong, good and evil, black and white. There was always shades of grey and no room on either side for dark or light. In the end, I made the wrong decision and left my world. It was possibly the only choice I could make, but the things I left behind? The people I would never see again? I was selfish to take my light away from them, no matter how dim it was. Then again, that's just me. Look at how your family copes."

It was all in the fountain. Melissa rocked herself on the bed and there was something more. A slight bump to her stomach that he hadn't seen before. She was pregnant. It was his. Most definitely his. Then there were pills. Countless, endless amounts of pills for sleep deprivation, depression, nutrition, vitamins and even some pain medication that was never opened. They were his. As Neal watched, his beautiful, faithful wife scooped the pain meds into one hand and just stared. It was two o'clock in the morning and here she was, contemplating suicide. A knock on the door was enough to snap her out of it. Alice came in and handed her a plate of toast. The hoarse words echoed in his head. "No, baby. Mommy isn't hungry right now, okay?" From the looks of it, she hadn't been hungry in a while.

Alice's eyes were older as she walked away from her mother's room. Almost empty. Even as he watched, her face aged until she was a woman. A beautiful, cherished young woman tying fabric around her bicep so she could shoot some more heroin. Neal nearly choked on his tears. Her eyes were empty now, too. He watched as her boyfriend raped her, slapped her, kicked her and there was no daddy to cry to and make him bleed. He watched as she got pregnant at sixteen and had a stillborn child, taking the pain silently through her overly painted face. Melissa stood beside her just as quiet and as thin as a twig. Her figure was gone and there was brandy on her breath, alcoholism stemming from a lost child and a dead husband. They both died in a car accident on the way home from the hospital, much too drunk to drive but not caring for their lives anyways.

Wrenching away with a cry, Neal turned and punched the kid square in the jaw. There was no crack to signify it's breaking and nothing but a grimace to even show it's passing. In fact, the teenager looked almost impressed. "I haven't seen speed like that since Balthazar got caught with a triathelete's girlfriend! Almost reminds me of the time Michael got pissed…"

Michael. Balthazar. Why were those names familiar to him? They sure as hell weren't part of his squadron. Neal definitely would have remembered. Swallowing, he asked, "Is that really going to happen?"

The teenager looked thoughtful. "Hm. Nah. I've decided that I like you, and your little Alice. Besides, Remembrance Day isn't a good time to die and it's about as depressing as being broken up with on Valentine's Day. So, Major Neal Hardy, are you going to change you're mind?"

He couldn't breath. Another chance? Only an angel could give another chance. Then he really couldn't breath. Killing brothers. Choosing sides. Another world. Michael and Balthazar. Opening his mouth, he croaked, "Who are you."

The angel winked slyly as he spread three pairs of glinting golden wings two or three times bigger than his body. Eyes glowing gold, he purred, "You can call me Gabriel."

Beepbeepbeep.

"Clear!"

Neal's eyes fluttered open slowly. There she was. Alice's eyes clenched in prayer behind the glass and Melissa's horror-struck face. The heart monitor started a steady rhythm and her face turned almost to awe. A single golden feather floated from nowhere to land soothingly on his chest. Behind his family, there were a dozen ghostly wisps and as they saluted, there was a golden eye winking at him buddy-buddy like before he saluted snappily. The group turned on a dime and marched away in perfect formation with the archangel Gabriel at it's head. Alice was holding his hand, now, bandages going up his wrists. Before the doctors wheeled him in for surgery, he took Melissa's hand with his free one and promised in a hoarse whisper, "No more excuses. I'm gonna try."

As they took him into the OR, a nurses phone went off. "Today I'm gonna try and change the world. Gonna take it one step at a time. I've made my resolution, I've opened up my eyes. Today I'm gonna try and change the world."

It was the sweetest sound he'd ever heard.

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Somewhere in Canada, an archangel laid on his back looked to the skies and saluted smartly to whichever of his brothers was watching. He was going to be in deep shit for performing this little miracle, but then again, everyone was in deep shit right now. Legion had started a whole different war brewing and things were going to get worse before they got better. Raphael was already losing it, making what happened before seem comparatively sane. Michael and Lucifer were at one another's throats and he and Castiel had fought one too many times this past week. Thinking of the song he'd left the hospital to, he pictured that little girl praying for her daddy and started to hum. "I'm gonna say hello to my neighbor, greet him with a smile. Shake the hand of a stranger, sit and talk for a while. Tell someone I love them from the bottom of my heart…"

Today I'm gonna change the world. Hm. I think I made a pretty good start.

That, my dears, was the angst, slightly fluffy Remembrance Day chapter. Just wait until Christmas… Oh, and I don't own the song, poem or Supernatural. Song is by Johnny Reid and the poem was written by John McCrae. Love you guys!