Bridge Over Troubled WaterI used to feel, so strongly and so vividly, long ago. All sorts of glorious emotion, fear, joy, sorry, jealousy, and doubt. I, as well as all my brothers, may have taken these emotions for granted, and that was very wrong. Emotions show us who we are and what we are made of.
Our father decided that we didn't need these emotions. They made us weak and disloyal. He ordered us to not feel anymore.
We stopped feeling and we became closer. We never thought for ourselves, never having the need to. We could not react. We could not hate. We could love no one except for who we were told to.
We were told to love the humans and I can now see that most of my brothers failed at that.
After all of this time, I have started to feel once again and it is due to my love for the humans that my father had ordered. All of these emotions, these feelings. I do not understand them. I do see my father's point though. They have made me weak. They have made me disloyal. I am fearful and doubtful and p
Sweet HitchhikerSam kept his eyes on the road, watching the clouds, watching the road kill they passed, looked at anything he could to keep his eyes from travelling to the rear view mirror or, worse, the back seat. He sighed, turning his attention to his stupid arm. He'd bandaged it and applied pressure, but it still ached annoyingly. He scrunched up his nose and scratched at that the edges of the ace bandage. He turned his attention to Dean, who should not have been driving. There was a purple and gold bruise clouding his temple and his eyes were a bit fogged over with concussion.
Sam's lips curled on themselves as a burning leapt to his eyes, which he turned back to the road. This was all his fault. He should have double checked the lore. He'd been too cocky. He was tired of Dean always being the one in charge, of being right, and he wanted that power for himself.
He put them all in danger.
He couldn't get it out of his head. He thought it was a rugaru, something easy. They all went in, silver at th
Real Child of HellSam was tired, too tired, and he could see that he wasn't the only one. Dean was dragging his steps, his attention on his feet and Castiel's bright blue eyes had grown dark, the heavy lids sliding over them. The angel was almost completely human now and it hurt Sam to see him this way. Angels never needed to sleep, yet Castiel was about to collapse from exhaustion.
They'd been running for so long, fighting so much, never with the time to rest or fully heal in between. None of them were really able to keep going, not without a break at least.
They had just entered their motel room and Castiel was heading to one of the beds. It was supposed to be Sam's bed, it was his turn to not sleep on the floor, but the larger Winchester didn't really care. Of all of them, he was in the best condition.
He stopped, confused. He turned, seeing his brother stand there. There was sweat on Dean's brow as he stood in the doorway, unmoving. His green eyes were wide, too wide and the irises twitches as if in
Look At You 2 There was a form out there amongst the wiry black trees and it made Dean uncomfortable. Everything in purgatory made him uncomfortable, but this was different. This creature was what he thought Castiel should have been, a bolt of light that had no single form, but evolved and changed as he tried to focus on it.
The first time he saw it he thought it was a pure white, glowing, stag bounding away from one of the thousands upon thousands of predators. The second time he thought it was a man, the light trailing off of him like threads. The third time it seemed to be a wave, a school of fish, flowing into one another seamlessly.
Castiel looked nothing like that though. He seemed to be done changing, his hideous appearance not having alte
Look At You"Dean." Castiel breathed and the word was like music to the hunter's ears. He turned, forcing himself to look at the glowing blue eyes in amazement. It had been almost three days, or what Dean thought were three days, since the broken angel had last spoke. His voice was rough, deeper and more of a growl than Dean was used to, but there was a second voice in it, a high-pitched song that echoed and weaved around the first.
Dean hadn't wanted to even look at the angel since they'd stopped talking, always making some mental excuse to keep his gaze away from that of his friend. He'd look for the monsters of purgatory, to the strange lights in the sky that almost acted like stars, anything other than at the angel.
Castiel had warned Dean of what happened in Purgatory, that every soul there was a monster. And it was true. What Dean hadn't expected was that he'd meant that living souls were monsters as well.
In this dark and strange place, attributes were changed, tuned. You're soul was on you