Am I doing the right thing? Am I on the right path. You have to tell me, you have to give me a sign. Give me a sign.
Because if you don’t I’m gonna ch—
I’m gonna do whatever I. Whatever I must.
Dean used to think I served Heaven. Maybe he does again. I don't know anymore--there is so much I don't know anymore.
But once, he knew.
Once, I stood before a broken, desperate man and told him how to summon an archangel, and he smiled at me.
Once, I lived for that smile.
And he knew. He knew that I would defy heaven. For him. Without me saying it, he knew that I served him.
I sit on the bench in a park, a snow crusted heaven full of green and peace and I am tired.
Curiously weightless--like confessing everything to a father who doesn't listen has helped some. Not healed the wound of all my betrayal. But. Broken it. Lanced out all of the worst poisons.
I still do not know what to do. I still have no idea how to proceed. If trusting Crowley is right.
If it is, why am I losing Dean? That is the question I stumble on. Again. And again.
He has become my compass point, the true north by which I plot my course.
He was gone.
And I was adrift in a world with no guide. A father who abandoned me, a brother who would kill me, and a human who forgot me.
There was only one who remained and maybe I was desperate, or lonely, but I am still not sure I was wrong.
If trusting Crowley meant I could allow Dean his tiny piece of normal, was it worth it?
Then, it was easy--he was already lost to me and I was risking nothing.
“Please,” I whisper to an absent father, and I am not even ashamed of the way my voice breaks and shudders. The desperation that echoes in my empty heaven.
Give me a sign. Show me I'm on the right path.
I don't know what scares me. That I am not on the right path, or that I will continue on it, despite everything. That my silent father will remain silent.
I told Dean that nothing is broken. That this plan, foolhardy even to my ears, is not a gamble.
As if I am not too aware that I will break the world, if I am not very careful.
I let out a sigh and it sounds bitter, even to my ears.
Stupid and prideful, to think my absent god would answer me, now. When he ignore his firstborn sons and the righteous man, and all of the prayers through the eons.
What am I, in the grand scheme of his plan. A broken angel, forgotten and abandoned by his human.
And heaven is gone. I'm sitting in a diner, greasy and nausea inducing in the garish colors.