#rebelshield

               “You’ve got the look of someone about to tell                                                me I’m not supposed to be here.”

A pause. 

           he considers the items the angel brought back to the motel room, the beer, the pie, and was that a skin mag or two? it wasn’t every day that the angel who sat on your shoulder went shopping for things you liked.

He’d been in the cage for so long, tortured and nearly destroyed so many times that one could easily believe that he likely should have forgotten everything from before. His brothers, his mother, his father and every memory in-between. But somehow, through force from Lucifer or through sheer will, he’d held onto them all.

He remembered his classes and the teachers, the ones he liked and those that he didn’t. He remembered how one year his mother had scraped and scraped just to make ends meet. He remembered being taken as a vessel by Michael, and how before that last minute, he’d been so sure in his choice. He remembered watching that last battle, remembered watching someone come and take Sam.

And he remembered the man standing in front of him now, dark hair perpetually mussed and eyes squinting like he might glean more information that way.

there  are  secrets  in  these  old  bones.  ancient  and  forever.  hidden  under  a  plethora  of  lies  and  fallacies -- under  goodbye’s,  and  will  i  ever  see  you  again?  he  perches  like  a  gargoyle,  entirely  in  awe  of  the  raw  celestial  energy  echoing  through  this  humanoid  body.  he  recognizes  it.  it’s  old. 

not  as  old  as  him,  though.