Icarus

He was angry, and rightfully so. She did not blame him for an ounce of it. He had just been a kid. A kid going to college trying to live his best life. He hadn't asked for John Winchester to be his father. He didn't ask for the ghouls. He didn't ask to be ripped out of Heaven and used and abused and forgotten. All of this was so very valid.

"No,I-" Azrael paused and looked down as she bit her lip and nodded. No. This was not the time to correct what he had wrong, this was not the time to tell him that most of the things he blamed her for she had no control over. No. He needed to express his anger. He would feel better for it in the long run. She knew he never would with Michael, and Zachariah? Well. He was sleeping peacefully with her uncle in The Empty.

She could handle his ire and his rebukes and his rage. It was imperative he got it out and if it was against her instead of one of her other siblings or someone else in his life, all the better. She would take as much as he threw at her and she would encourage it. In the end it would hopefully be worth it. He should feel better for it at least, and that was what mattered to her.

"You're right. I was selfish and uncaring and I left you there all alone." Azrael told him, her tone cold. "I left you both to rot in their while I got my freedom here and I didn't think twice about it. I went about my business like nothing had changed."

Azrael had been doing so much lying lately, the words came out easier than she ever thought possible. They were the furthest from the truth of anything she had ever said in her entire life. She felt so sick and her heart broke, but she had been created to serve humanity. Every last one. This was as much her job as reaping souls.

“What I’m mad about is the rapture, Azrael.” He keeps his voice steady, despite the desire to shout. To get angry, to let her know just how much pain he is on a daily basis. How it had scarred his soul permanently, being taken like that. Holes and tears, rips in the very fabric of his being. A soul may heal with time, but not when pieces are missing completely. Little things can be healed, but not this… not his soul. He was too damaged, too mangled, too broken.

“I don’t want to hear about your damn guilt around the cage. I don’t care about it. The cage was not half as bad as what I suffered losing him.” His throat was tight, the grief still gripping him like a vice. It was still so raw…

Forget about the fact that Michael isn’t here.

“He’s gone… he’s not here, and dammit, it hurts. Every day I wake up in pain. You know why? Because I was ripped apart. I was ripped apart holding onto the one thing I love. The one thing that I care about. The one being that I would do anything for. I went to hell for him, I said yes to him. And I’d go through all of it again, if it meant that I’d have him again.”

He doesn’t even realize that Michael is dead.