Of wrath and sorrow
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: K-7
Summary: Dean is thirty-one and as he loses faith in me, I lose all.
A/N: Includes small spoilers of season eight.
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Of all of the humans who have been, who shall be, he is singled out for me.
I watch his soul take form, flesh and blood and bone and if there would be a moment that I would weep, this would be it because of all of the humans, he is singled out for me and the feeling I later learn to be known as fear, becomes a part of my existence, the fear of losing him. In the years to come, I find myself realizing that I serve not only God but him, this one human singled out for me.
It does not matter that it takes years for him to start praying for me. I hear his prayers none the less.
So I watch. Watch him become everything he will become, watch his road become painfully real in front of him. Watch him find me.
Dean is three and he laughs in a way he will never laugh again when he is older.
Dean is sixteen and he treats women like life has treated him so far.
Dean is twenty and aching for something he can not name, will not name.
Dean is twenty-nine and I hear his cries throughout Hell and this is when everything else stops having significance. My touch is burned on him as I grip him tight and raise him from Perdition to make him whole once again. And again I watch as he is made flesh and blood, bone and skin and although I can fix his surface my aid does not reach what Hell has done to his soul. What once was light and fragments of the shadows of his past, is now twisted and pain, crushed in ways I can not begin to know how to heal.
But I try.
And as my touch is burned on his flesh, he is burned on mine, his essence, his being, his every single molecule is burned on me but that I do not tell him. I watch as he struggles with faith, with his sins and his path, blood and pain following his steps and what ever clarity I had before with my orders, I lose it all as I watch him, see, hear and feel his battles. I heard your prayers before you could speak.
Dean is thirty and the world is a battlefield. There are no words to comfort him and I am clumsy and weak in my efforts to try and keep him safe. The world is falling in to pieces and as Dean loses his brother, he stops praying and this is when I bring Sam back.
I get lost in the civil war called Heaven and though every single step I have taken, whisper I have heard has lead me to here, I can not find my way. God is blind and l stumble in the dark valley of free will, of choice that leaves me only with ashes and dust, disappointment and betrayal.
Dean is thirty-one and as he loses faith in me, I lose all. I become the God I have lost but I am a God of wrath and sorrow for he is not with me, for he has no faith and without faith there is no God, there is no redemption left for me. I judge and slay, fight a bloody trail just to fall to oblivion so he can find me once more.
Dean is thirty-three and I let him go so he can live. Purgatory is pure, it is everything and nothing and his prayers are more desperate than ever. I watch the water as I hear his cries. But he finds me as he always must for I have burned my mark in his flesh and he has burned his soul in mine.
And there as I watch the river and with my every being try not to go to him, he comes to me and I realize that I have mistaken. It it is not him who was singled out from all of the humans who have ever been, who shall be. It was me who was singled out for him. I heard your prayers before you were made.
So there I stand by the river of Purgatory, in the midst of all that is black and white so I could realize that I was never created for God. For I was made from solitude and tears, from battles and blood, from the faith of the Righteous Man who he was to become, who he became so he could find find his way. For I was not created for God.
I was created for him.
