A/N: I don't own Supernatural, the CW, or any other known entity. This is just something that popped into my head earlier, and it wouldn't let go until I wrote it. I suppose it's possible to add to this later, but for now, it's staying as one. Metaphorical cookies for anyone who can guess them all (and one of them may be different from canon). As always, I hope you guys enjoy, and please review. :)
I never would have believed how much existing as a human would show me just how fortunate I am to be an angel. It takes another angel, a special sword, or God to kill or torture one of us. But as a human, anyone can do anything to you, and that's it. If they go too far, you die, and there's no way they can fix that. We angels can, though. And even though I had always seen it from Heaven, seeing it and feeling it are two different things.
I never felt so powerless until I was human. And now, I'm not taking my angel status for granted again. Although, I still believe rebelling was the right thing to do. And perhaps that was what Father was trying to teach me all along- that if I survived, I would be welcomed again because I fought for what I thought was right. Though I don't think He will be so forgiving if I were to rebel against Him…
One lesson the Apocalypse taught me: A little humanity can be a good thing.
I wish I could explain it in a way that made sense, but that's hard to do when I don't even understand it either. I suppose a break is needed in any relationship, otherwise it does become what that shrink called, "codependent." But tell me something, how exactly do you not become codependent on someone who you've raised and is, at times, the only thing keeping you going?
I've always thought that I needed him to survive, that I could never live without him. And not in any sort of incest-like thing or anything. But my goal in life, my sole purpose, has always been to take care of him and look out for him. And he's gone. So what purpose do I really have left? That's something I've been starting to figure out.
One lesson the Apocalypse taught me: Maybe I can live for myself.
I never thought I'd be able to hunt again. And for all the times that huntin' wore on me, it was always my thing. My way of stayin' sane (well, relatively speakin') after my wife died. My way of stoppin' others from having to feel the same pain I felt. It was somethin' I was good at, too. And I met some good people along the way.
The uselessness I felt when I was in that chair was not somethin' I ever thought about before. I'd always taken risks before without thinkin' about the consequences… like being paralyzed. When it happened, I wanted to put a pistol in my mouth. After all, what good is a hunter with no legs? Got them back, though.
One lesson the Apocalypse taught me: Walk 'em while ya got 'em.
It sucks being an angel condom. But when it's Lucifer, it's magnified times, like, a thousand. Because between the teleporting and everything else angelically powered, there's this evil darkness that is its own force. And once you say yes, it's all over. You don't get your body back until the angel decides to leave.
I knew all this even before I said yes. I mean, the amount of blood I had to drink just so I wouldn't die after saying yes was incredible. And disgusting. I've always hated that part. But the extra strength meant I didn't fall apart like that other guy… I don't know what his name used to be before Lucifer jumped in him… I didn't fall apart like he did. But I managed quite the coup, if I do say so myself.
One lesson the Apocalypse taught me: Even the mighty can be taken from within.
Even as I wrote it, I wasn't sure it could be done. That Sam would really be able to battle Lucifer, win back control, and take him back into the cage. It took strength and courage that, even though I knew he possessed it, I wasn't entirely sure he was going to use. Especially when Lucifer started pounding on Dean.
Of all things, though, to tamp down Lucifer, the fact that the Impala was a big part still amazes me. That Sam could wrangle and strangle an angel from within is even more amazing to me. I only wish that he didn't have to be locked down there forever with Lucifer, that Sam'd be free to roam the streets.
One lesson the Apocalypse taught me: Memories, no matter how bittersweet, can help win the fight.
The first night he showed up, disheveled and broken, I was afraid of what he was going to do. Honestly, I thought I'd read about it in some newspaper that he had killed himself, and I wasn't sure how I'd live with that. Knowing that I was the last person to talk to him, and that I couldn't save him. I couldn't have handled that.
That's why, in a way, I was glad he showed up the second time, even though he was still disheveled and broken in some way. I could tell it'd been a long day, and something told me that I shouldn't turn him away. That I should just be grateful that, after everything he'd obviously been through that day, that he was still close enough to whole that he could make it here.
One lesson the Apocalypse taught me: Fight harder for a broken man.
I've realized that I've long been one of the forgotten. The only person who ever cared about me wholly was my mother, as she was the only one there for me. An absentee father who comes around every once in a while for my birthday doesn't exactly make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Because every time he came around, I knew he'd be leaving again soon.
Maybe they were right in saying I was better off not knowing the truth. But guess what? I still got screwed by ghouls, and then later by angels. And every time, with every different situation, I was left behind. I'm like a yo-yo, somewhere between dead and alive, and never knowing just what would happen next. Heaven, Hell, or somewhere in between.
One lesson the Apocalypse taught me: I'm a lonely pawn worth nothing to anyone.