Two brothers and an angel,
in a 67 Chevrolet-
together a team of free will-
you might say.

Sam loves his research
and Dean loves his pie-
but both so love each other
so-that for the other-
they'll surely die.

A man and an angel;
friendship till the end,
face their final battle from heaven and god-send.
Back to back and unstoppable,
all throughout the fight,
when at last- a cry is let out
and released to the starless night.
The angel has fallen, now twice in his time-
and Dean cannot help but slash through the line.
Over to his friend, his closest companion,
monsters simply stop when they see his dominion.
And then against all,
against all their long struggles-
lies the rubble & black scars of his heavenly double.

Stuttered breathing but no ribs broken. All limbs still intact-

Could I stand? Yes.

All motion functions seemed to be in order-all in place-all as they had always been in this unique vessel he had chosen as his own.

But then it hit him-like a silver knife to the chest-
he was falling,

                       falling,

                  ­                    falling.

Spiraling out of control with no way to halt-all the pressure of his divine being-stripped with a waxen blade-he was a shell…he was nothing now.

Snapping out of his spasm, Castiel attempted to take in his surroundings again-the realization not yet hitting his aching chest. Aching… Well that was a new feeling.

It was as if his bones were weak from all the pressure he had never felt in all his being since he sprung from existence, at the beginning of the world itself. Mind racing yet numbing, he stumbled, trying to heal his aching, his aching what? He could no longer pinpoint the pain-it was new and fresh like a wound but deceased as well-as if it had long been dead inside with daffodils tossed casually by the grave.

Was this what it was like?

To be human? To no longer feel the rush and pressure of his wings upon his back, never visible unless he chose so; the ache of a human heart pounding in his chest cavity, unnerving and rattling; and the silence-no more of the noise of his divine celestial being; no more being able to answer his friends…

He snapped then and there from his newfound musings of what humanity felt like-

Dean.

Sam.

He could no longer hear their call. Attempting to summon all the remnants of what little remained of his grace-he rose to his feet-he had to find them-he had to find his friends.

Yet silence was the only call that answered him, ringing with the final yell of "CASTIEL!" as the final sound he had heard as he hurtled to the rocky hard earth.

Dean had been calling but he had no way to answer now-
and…
it was useless.
He was branded with the absolute of nothing now.

He was nothing without his grace-nothing…and who could ever want such a monster as he had become anyway?

His grace had been his final stand, his anchor-and all was now lost as he had fallen.

But now-now something just remained-as tears pulled at his eyes-guiding him unwillingly to stare up at the midnight indigo sky.

Falling-all were falling-as if shooting stars had all been drawn to this one night.

There, there was the final proof as he stared up at the sky, the misery now fully realized. His family-all of them-were dying right before his eyes.

And it was again-
as it always was
and always will be-

all. his. fault.

----------

*What a heavy burden
his new heart would have to bear-
Knowing it was
in his name
that all the angels
were stripped bare.

If I were a month, I’d be September.
If I were a day of the week, I’d be Thursday.
If I were a planet, I’d be Saturn.
If I were a sea animal, I’d be coral.
If I were a piece of furniture, I’d be a bookshelf.
If I were a gemstone, I’d be a sapphire.
If I were a flower, I’d be bougainvillea.
If I were a kind of weather, I’d be a crisp autumn wind.
If I were a color, I’d be auburn. (much like my hair)
If I were an emotion, I’d be wonderstruck.
If I were a fruit, I’d be a pomegranate.
If I were an element, I’d be air.
If I were a place, I’d be a field of wildflowers in Scandinavia or a bookshop in Northern Italy.
If I were a taste, I’d taste like sweet and bitter black tea.
If I were a scent, I’d be the smell of freshly baked goods.
If I were an object, I’d be a pencil sharpener.
If I were a body part, I’d be freckles.
If I were a song, I’d be Thoughts of Flight by Edmund.
If I were a pair of shoes, I’d be **bright purple converse.

On a stormy afternoon in the middle of December, I awoke to the crash of lightning outside my window, startled and jolted awake. At first, I thought I must be dreaming-why would a girl be standing out there in the rain at this time of night. Yet there she was, as I saw again, the light smashing through the sky again illuminating her windswept locks, soaked to the bone. This, was Mary Elizabeth as I would come to know her-and she truly was a remarkable entity. A dreamer, no doubt was she, as well as eternally cursed with an uncurable case of wanderlust. She dreamed of the mountains, rising high with her spirit into the sky, and was beautiful. In looks, you ask? Well yes, but more so was her soul. That spirit of hers coupled with her kind heart led her to be the one, and remarkable Mary Elizabeth I was about to meet outside my window.

That demon you've asked of?
The one of your dreams?
Yes she's dead Castiel-
"I'm sorry." Said Dean.

Angels have fallen
and the stars have gone black-
will we ever know if poor Castiel
can come back?
Graceless and fallen
and weak from descent,
wonder how much of that courage
is now gone
and spent.

She raises the headpiece of wires,
Twined like a garland of thorn.
Looking into enigmatic eyes
To see the love still unborn.
Her beloved Doctor-
Oh why do you have to cry?
How painful it must be-
To meet with a goodbye.

There no point trying to deny it. Life is a mess. War, famine, horror, death-it's always there no matter what you do to make a difference. Sometimes you just wish you could turn out the lights, start a new day, or hit the permanent snooze button. But. There is good in this messed up world of ours and it can be found pouring out of every edifice with the brightness of a billion suns if the lighting is just-right.
What's the reflectors that can project such a light?
Humanity-our perfectly imperfect souls.

I believe in this remarkable life we live, that each soul is colored differently. Some have a tone that is bright and vivid and some are deeper hues filled with a passion beyond belief. Some are more easy to pale and some remain ever true in any light. In this story I am yet to weave to you, dear reader, I speak of a boy whose soul had a color that had never been seen before. Bright yellows, subtle earth tones, a crisp orange, but coupled with a passion filled blue-it was unnamable but filled with the mystery of an unmarked novel, enticing and familiar but unknown. Most are unable to see these hues but some are granted with this gift, as I am. And I can say most undoubtedly that this particular hue was as unique as the individual it belong to. This, was the color of ...well-him, and it was truly a soul to match the beauty of the person within, because after all-not everything is as they appear my dear. Not everything is always clear.

He had held her
one last time.
He was in her arms-
it had felt so right.
Now he was gone- gone- gone.
His last breath-
wasted on her. He had crumbled, fallen,
and she was screaming to the night.
Her last wish-
her selfishness had left him with no time left to speak.
He was in her arms as she cradled him like a babe,
Rocking him slowly-
wishing all the world would just disappear.
Just fade-
all shall fade- To nothing.
She truly was a fool-
The greatest fool to ever live-
And her love was gone-
leaving her with only
an empty shell-forever cold and hollow.

*All shall fade.
All shall fade.

Isn't it interesting-
how humanity is both clockwork
and puzzle pieces,
stitched together
at seamless, invisible seams?

Today, as I went walking
soaking in the warmth
of the wonderful sunshine,
under a perfect turquoise sky-
(though I wished for
grey clouds to the east)
I looked, and saw
such intricate pieces
of this little world of ours.
The menacing guard at the front-
staring diligently and
ever vigilantly
at his screen- but
unexpectedly
compliments your TARDIS shirt
as you pass him by.
The happiness and
slight rise in caffeinated
dopamine levels- as
I intake as the cool hazelnutty
drink, which slips lazily
down my dry throat
as I sit under an orange umbrella.
(Which only makes my hair stand out even more.)
The happy bicycle singer-
singing to the latest pop song;
And appearing to not have
a care in the slightest; and the
couple, at the corner bench,
limbs inching
ever closer but
ever further
as both wish for the other
to make the first move;
Leaving them at a loss-
In love.

Isn't humanity beautiful
in its sheer
Simplicity?
To the unknowing eye
of its complexity
it masks?

At least,
I believe so.

No one understands me…
No one really cares…
Would anyone notice-
-Or would dying be playing fair?

Such a broken-tortured soul
Once filled with such good intent-
is now reduced to ruin
with all his feathers burnt and bent.

A heavenly soldier-a warrior of light
Yes-that was him-back in the day
Before of course this perilous strife
that would lead to his astray.

From day one; after the first-
he was always to be cast out
by his family-his only friends-
They didn't hang about.

And ain't it nice they left him
all alone-
These so called true friends of his?
to meet his bitter and ****** end
Quite ghastly and full of gris?

Well-that's quite harsh-
he must admit-
It's not their fault after all-
I was the one who fell from grace
I was the first to fall.

Take the blame-hide the mistakes-
Always continuing the same routine-
but when it comes to praying to God-
he coughs up blood and speaks his final words
To the void- in the form of Sam and Dean.

Because after all-they're still his friends-
Both saved and raised from perdition-
That's what they deserve after all this time-
And perhaps a life with less of his ambitions.

They'll have each other- in the end
and that's all they've ever wanted.
No more room for angels
(I overstayed)
so they need no more be haunted.

I hope they know I'm sorry-
that I did my best at last-
Because in my fall, I secured their future
even though I still apologize -(and can't be forgiven)-
for the past.

And that is what the angel ponders
As he struggles not to die-
That in the end-What's the use-
in praying for such a hopeless case
as a broken soul
like I?

--------

You ******* idiot-
you thought you'd die alone?!
Did you *ever seriously consider that
I'd not mend your broken bones?

Me and Sammy came just in time
And caught you as you fell-
From the sky-like stardust in the wind-
Il'l admit-you missed my arms-
But you somehow just floated...thin
Right to a patch of sunken earth
Which we then of course jumped in
so as to miss your burning ashs and caught your
very
limp limbs.

But when we lay your broken body
carefully upon the ground-
You seemed quite out of it I guess
But no way out of sound.
You spoke to the sky some sort of plea-
About how you hoped we'd forgive you...
You blasted *******-
Why would you even think
That for a single moment-
that that was ever even possibly true?

We've always needed you by our side-
You're part of our family after all.
I don't care how much there is to forgive
Or how much you think you needed to fall.

We need you here beside us-
Both Sammy here and I...
Just lay your weary head to rest, Cas
Because I swear I won't let let you die.

---------

Brothers of free will that night-embraced and sung their worries away
To the tune of the Beatles in the night as they all cast troubles astray.
The fallen angel soon healed-and the brothers-they turned out fine.
And together they were never parted till the very end of times.

And to this day-they're still out there-in the prettiest Chevrolet-
Because after all-Team Free Will-
will always be there to save the day.

Two heroes; comrades,
brothers in arms;
face all that oppose them
and keep the other from harm.