#aviah

"You as well, sister. I heard news about your Falling but I thought them merely rumors." He glanced behind her before looking back at his fellow angel questioningly. "You are cavorting with witches,” he stated in question.

"Yes, brother. Mostly just the one, though."

She turned to Rowena who had followed her, grasping her hand to usher her beside her. "Rowena, this is Castiel, one of my brothers. Castiel, Rowena Macleod, the witch whom I Fell for."

Castiel studied the redhead with concentration. "Nice to meet you," he acknowledged.

"Aye," Rowena nodded. "Ye as well." She glanced behind him at the handsome men in plaid. "And you too, lads."

Dean had his arms crossed while Sam looked at them unsurely. Aviah glanced at them before approaching the brothers and extending her hand. "Hello, Dean and Sam Winchester. I am Aviah, former Angel of the Lord. It is good to finally meet you."

Dean glanced at Sam as the taller of the two shook Aviah's extended hand, he did the same after him. "Nice to meet you, too," said Dean.

"When you said 'Fell'," began Sam. "Do you mean like Anna . . .?"

"Not quite," she said. "Anna had Fallen of her own volition. I Fell due to my emotions towards her." She indicated her witch.

"You fell for a witch," Dean said skeptically. "If that isn't the most cliched love story, I don't know what is."

"How did you manage to find her? How did you even remember who she was?" Sam asked.

"My Falling was different from Anael's. When I had landed, I was already in a grown human body."

Dean grabbed Sam by the arm. "Would you excuse us for a moment?" He said, before dragging Sam a little bit away, turning from the others. "Dude. First angels, now witches?"

"I know, Dean. But a witch working with an angel? Come on, that has to mean, at the very least, that she's good, right?"

"Yeah, you're forgetting that angels are dicks. I mean, all except for Cas here, and he started out a dick, too."

"Fine, I see your point. But let's just give them a chance, alright? I mean, Falling because of how much you love someone? That's gotta count for something, right?"

"Fine, we'll give them a shot,” he huffed. “Just remember, witches are bitches, alright?"

Sam nodded and they returned.

"You are aware that just because I am without Grace does not mean that I am completely human?" she asked the brothers. "Thus, I heard your conversation well and I take offense to your name calling, Dean Winchester."

Dean looked thrown and tightened his lips, before rubbing the back of his head and looking a tad sheepish. It was Sam who said, "I'm sorry for that. We haven't had the best luck with angels. Or witches, for that matter."

Aviah nodded as Castiel spoke. "It's alright Sam. Aviah is not an enemy, am I correct?" he asked her.

She nodded. "No, Castiel. I am not. I wish to avert the Apocalypse as well. And I understand your reservations about us, Dean Winchester. But please ease yourself on the name calling. Those are my brothers and sisters, and my human, you were talking about."

Rowena took her hand and rubbed her arm, soothing her ire. "Easy now, darling," she calmed. "Forgive her boys, she's a wee touch protective with her family and, well, me."

"He did not mean any disrespect." Castiel assured Rowena and Aviah.

"Aye. Sure he didn't," Rowena said with a roll of her eyes. "Ya don't have ta be defendin' them. They're hunters; it's in their blood."

"We're sorry," Sam apologized to them again, now looking at the redhead witch. To Aviah, he said, "You say you want to help us stop the apocalypse?"

"Yes, Sam Winchester. I will not allow my brothers to destroy God's creation. I will help."

"Well, right now, we need to stop Lilith from opening anymore of those seals," said Dean. "Think you can help with that?"

Aviah glanced at Castiel warily. "I---" she turned to look at Rowena who sighed then nodded at her.

"I'm sure I can find somethin'. Just get me the books and I'll start right on it."

"Thank you, my love," Aviah said, kissing her hand.

The boys were a little uncomfortable at the display. Not because they were homophobic, it was just strange to see what was technically still an angel be all loving towards what they knew to be a witch. It seemed too unnatural.

Rowena gave her a smile before turning to the boys. "I'll give ya my number and you can let me know if ye've found anythin'. Send any books ye might have to me. I assume ye're angel knows where we'd be stayin'?"

"Yes," answered Castiel. "I could find you."

It was unexpected, what happened.

She, along with a few other angels, were assigned to watch over Earth. It was a quiet duty and a few times she would even hear a few of her brothers and sisters comment on how lonely it was. It was a duty they had kept at for thousands of years. She, Aviah, had been part of the majority who never complained, though the thought did cross her mind fleetingly at times.

It was more than two centuries ago that she came across a certain human. At first, the human was just the same as everyone else; messy, irrational, chaotic. The fact that said human was a witch with natural magic wasn't anything she hadn't seen before. She did her duty and watched everyone equally. But somehow, without her own awareness, she found herself watching the human more and more frequently. It wasn't that there was anything special about her, yet she found herself slowly becoming interested. And it was then that her first transgression, as her kind would call it, came to pass.

The witch was a small human, frail looking but with eyes that shone with ambition. She had a small son, a tiny, intelligent child by human standards, that she treated horribly, but looked at with something resembling fondness when he was asleep or unaware.

She had been watching her for years by that time, since she was but a small child, discovering her natural power and hiding it, refusing to practice as so many of her kind did. If she were to be honest with herself, she felt a tiny amount pleased at the human. As she did whenever she saw goodness, restraint and virtue at any moment in the world. It made the experience of seeing all the death, pain and suffering worth it.

She had frequently glanced as a myriad of events transpired in the human's life. The hardships she suffered through by not being a part of the wealthy and well-to-do; the small moments of joy, laughter and contentment; of falling in love and the happiness that came with the emotion; of fear and anger and disappointment at being abandoned, alone and without any assurance of what is to come.

She had felt the usual twinge of something resembling sorrow and sympathy at the time but did something that she had never done before. She had interfered. When the human decided to use magic and had begged to be allowed to join a sisterhood of powerful witches that ruled over all the others, she had given a little nudge towards those in charge, for them to consider her application and admit her into their fold.

It was forbidden to intervene if you had not been prayed to. Forbidden still to assist a monster or witch in any way.

That was likely what had started the little avalanche that led to her Falling.

The human was powerful and blossomed quickly into a witch of caliber. And, although she stewed in her decision to interfer and allow said human the tools to expand her own given power, she was secretly, even to her own self, pleased that the human has had a chance to rise from her unfortunate beginnings and create a better life for her and her child.

That transgression, though, had not yielded the results she anticipated. The witch was a cold and harsh mother and did not treat the child any better than before. Aviah was disappointed at the human but took very small comfort in the continuation of said hidden looks of fondness. Even as the years progressed and she came to question her interference more and more.

The little witch grew callous and cruel. She didn't care for the lives her magic affected, the lives that were taken as she practiced her craft. Aviah grew bitter with the witch, due to both the human's actions and her own foolish one. That bitterness did not end her interest, however, and when the witch was casted out and considered an outcast by her kind's hierarchy, forced on the run, leaving the child she treated poorly in a workhouse, Aviah had continued to watch over both mother and son.

The little witch didn't have much material possessions and, though she was powerful, her former coven had practically sent her to exile from all their kind. Not that it stopped the little witch, who travelled around the globe, continuing on learning her craft in secret. Many a time, Aviah had had to intervene. Small actions, whispered suggestions, lighter symptoms when illness inevitably struck. Practically insignificant actions that were carefully disguised so as not to draw the attention of her brothers and sisters and incur punishment.

It was then that Aviah learned the human concept of sneaking. Something the older angels likely knew how to do but she herself did not, until that moment.

After the witch left from her coven, and, in turn, fled from her village and son, Aviah had begun interfering or helping, a second person as well. The witch's son who was left on his own with no one to care for him.

It was small things as well. Unable to provide him with material comforts, she eased his pains and whatever illnesses he caught. Unable to physically protect him, she guided him on where to run and where to hide. And unable to send him finances for necessities, she had turned his notice to opportunities to earn his bread and make his livelihood.

Like his mother, he had disappointed her. Time and again. He had become a drunk, he picked fights, he had a child not even born from love, and he was as harsh and cold a parent as his own had been. Worse yet, he dealt with demons and sold his soul. The disgust she felt, as she watched him sell his immortal soul for a few more inches to his rod. He had died a few years later, as hellhounds tore at him. She could do nothing but watch, all her efforts in the past seemingly for naught.

She had turned away then, from that part of the world and, in extension, his son. She did not return her sights there until decades later, only to find that his son died only weeks after she had turned from him.

She had felt shame for the first time, and had regretted her actions for decades. She still feels a twinge of it whenever she remembers.

After the son had been dragged to hell, she had turned her helpfulness fully towards the witch. She didn't like what the little witch was doing, did not approve of the people who died along the way as she progressed in her studies. Still, she found herself assisting when necessary. It was around those years she realized that she was acting much like how most humans perceived angels to be. Guardians, helpers, protectors. She hoped her superiors never found out.

Years, decades, and centuries passed and the longer she watched, the more her interest had evolved. She had realized after the son's death that she had grown fond of the little witch and even the boy. Had only realized it after months of stewing in bitterness, disgust and, disappointment, at what became of the child and of what his mother was becoming. And that fondness grew, even as the witch worsened and became one of the worst of her kind. She found herself becoming accustomed to the cruelty and death she'd witness from the witch and, eventually, she was surprised to find that her actions no longer pulled forth disgust.

This, too, had evolved and she started to feel something unfamiliar.

Jealousy.

It burned low inside her whenever she watched her little witch become physically intimate with anyone. At first, she mistook it for anger, then disappointment. It took a while to understand what it was exactly she was feeling, it was so foreign.

When she did, it was quickly followed by another realization. The feeling of possession. The feeling that someone belonged to you. It was another foreign feeling that she had a suspicion her superiors knew about.

And new emotions kept appearing.

A part of her felt some measure of fear. Fear for the changes that had been occurring within her for years and which she had only realized was possibly changing something fundamental about her being. She wanted to speak to a higher up, someone more knowledgeable who she could confide in about her condition and who could explain what was happening to her. However, she knew logically that she couldn't. Not unless she wanted to be cast out. She would have earned herself a harsh reprimand and corrective punishment with her first few transgressions but now . . .

She didn’t want to fall from grace, did not want to be exiled like her witch had been centuries ago.

So she kept it to herself and unknowingly continued her slow descent from grace. She learned and understood more about humanity in those following years then she ever did in the millennia she had watched over them. She understood why they frolicked and played, and danced and smiled. Why they hurt each other and fought, and cheated, and deceived and stole. Why they 'made love' and why they 'fucked'.

She doubted her brothers and sisters could see just how beautiful the humans were. Not just their light, but their darkness, too. She wondered what it would be like for the angels to be like them. To be allowed to exist as they were but to able to feel as humans do.

To be able to have the same capacity for choice that they have.

Her fondness for her witch grew and grew until she was surprised that she was suddenly falling, white-hot flash of fire searing her as her grace was ripped from her and she fell thousands of feet down, eventually closing her eyes as she collided with the unforgiving ground.

And here she was now. Alone, human, and in pain.

She braced through the pain and stood up slowly, testing her human body. She wondered why she was not an infant. When her sister Anna fell, she had watched as she was reborn into a human infant. Shouldn't she be one as well?

Her steps were unsteady as she walked in the crater, her body still pained and aching. She heard sounds as she struggled to find a way out of the crater. Scuffles and barking. A faint light was shone above her which slowly brightened. She blinked as her human eyes adjusted.

"What in heaven ---?" a man's voice said. Her lips quirked in a smile. Another one of the things she had learned. Irony.

Light shined down towards her. The dog's barking loud in her ears. "Shit!" the man cursed. "You're --- Are you alright miss? What are you doing down there?" he questioned as he shined the light all over the crater. "Hold on, I'll get you out --- I'll ---"

The light disappeared. She waited patiently, staring at the sky in the meantime. Stars littered the night sky and a crescent moon hung high. She has truly Fallen. But with her full memories intact along with a grown body. Did her brothers and sisters see her fall? Did they know it was her? What must they be saying right now? She couldn't hear them.

Light shined on once more and a ladder was sent down along with a bundle of cloth. She picked the latter up and identified it as a robe. She carefully wore it over her sensitive skin, feeling much less exposed with the material on.

"Are you decent, miss?" called the man.

"Yes," she called experimentally, her voice hoarse and quiter than she intended. It was also vastly different from her angelic voice.

"Can you climb up? Do you need help?"

She tested her strength; the pain was already fading. Grasping at a bar and hoisting herself up a rung, she found that she was able to. "I can."

She began to climb. After a moment of thought, she added. "Thank you."

She was helped up the last rung and helped upright. "Your welcome. Are you alright? How did you get in there? And where in heaven's name were your clothes?" the man asked, looking her over for injury, concern and confusion on his face. He was an old man and wore a buttoned shirt and pants that extended to his torso. Behind him was a vehicle --- a truck --- and a dog.

"I am fine." She looked around them. There were some sparse trees. "Where am I?"

"Where are you?" the man asked, scratching his head. "Uh, well --- you're in my farm. How did you get here, anyways? Where'd you come from?"

She glanced at him. Humans were not usually aware of beings other than themselves. She would have to lie if she did not want to be thought mentally unwell. Another first. "I walked here. I am from a city nearby."

The man looked more confused and appeared skeptical. "The nearest city is 12 miles from here. You walked --- ?"

"Do you know where I might find food and appropriate clothing?" she asked, cutting him off. She had been watching humans long enough to know what she would require as one. "And acceptable shelter with a fire?"

"I ---" the man spluttered. He scratched his head again. "Well, your welcome to stay at my home, but it's nothing big or anything --- "

"I appreciate your kindness." she replied.

"Er," he shuffled. "Well, follow me, I guess." He walked to his truck and she followed. He entered through a door and she tried to imitate his actions with the opposite one, as she had seen humans do, but found that she could not open the door.

"Here, let me," he reached and opened the door for her. She got inside, closing the door only after the man's canine had jumped inside, landing on her lap. She stroked the animal's slightly coarse fur as the man drove them.

They stopped mere minutes later at a humble wooden dwelling. Electrical lights shone from inside and the porch. They got out from the vehicle, the man once again opening the door for her. She studied his actions and learned. Following into the house, she only realized that she had been cold as she felt the warmth from the fire he stoked in the hearth.

"I have some food here and a cot, somewhere." he told her, walking to another room, the sound of items banging and clanging.

She looked around, rubbing the dog's head as he looked up at her, panting. After a few minutes, the man emerged carrying a cot. He placed it in the middle of the room, near the fire. "There you are," he huffed. "I've already placed the soup on the stove, it shouldn't take long."

She watched him retreat back into the room. She glanced at the cot, walked over and took a seat on it. She waited patiently, staring at the fire, brushing the dog's fur, lost in thought. She was now a human. Graceless and away from home for the first time since her creation. It was overwhelming and frightening, but also . . . exhilarating, in a strange sort of way.

She turned her thoughts away from the graver consequences of her Falling and instead attempted to imagine what she might do with this newfound Humanity. One thought instantly came to her mind: her witch.

She felt a shiver go through her new body, one born from a quickly growing anticipation. She could finally do all the things she had contemplated on during the years. She could visit her witch, in the flesh, face-to-face. She could speak to her; be seen by her eyes; addressed, for the first time since she had come to watch over the woman.

She felt energy course through her body and wondered about the sudden feeling before recognizing it as excitement. Perhaps even adrenaline. Yes, the human version of an influx of Grace, she remembered.

"The soup's done," called the man, returning her focus on the present. He soon came into the room with a bowl of something steaming, resting on it's mouth. "Careful now, it's hot," cautioned the man as he handed her the bowl.

She took it carefully, noting the way the held it. He smiled at her awkwardly afterwards. "If you need anything else, just let me know, alright?"

She nodded at him and once again said, "Thank you." He nodded in return and left. She carefully ate her soup, surprised at the heat and flavor on her tongue. It was very good.

She finished it off just as the man came back, carrying a pillow and blanket. "You all done?"

She nodded, placing the bowl on the bed beside her. He took it before placing the other objects down. "There," he stated. "Will you be alright, miss?" He looked at her skeptically, eyeing the bathrobe she wore. "Are you sure there's nothing else I can do for you? Anyone I can call . . .?"

"No, thank you. I appreciate your kindness. I will be fine." she assured.

"Okay," said the man uncertainly. "I'll be going to bed now. The bathroom is down the hall, if you need it. And the kitchen is just beside it," he gestured to the doorway he disappeared off to. "Well, goodnight."

"Goodnight, as well," she bid him, recognizing the cue. He left, calling the dog after him. She was now alone.

Positioning the pillow beneath where her head would lay, spreading the blanket over herself and lying down, she stared at the ceiling. The silence, other than the sound of crackling in the fireplace, was odd. Silence in Heaven was different, though she could not place how. She only knew that here, on Earth, the silence felt oppressive and deafening.