Circle of Life (Book Three / The Life Series / Supernatural)

Are You There, God? It's Me, Dean Winchester

When I woke up and Dean got me home, he told me that this Castiel was "an Angel of the Lord".

The next day at home, Sam, Dean and I were arguing over it.

Dad was sitting at his desk with a pile of books in front of him.

"Well, then tell me what else it could be," I told him.

"Look, all I know is I was not groped by an angel," Dean told us.

"Okay, look, Dean," Sam told him. "Why do you think this Castiel would lie to you about it?"

"Maybe he's some kind of demon," Dean told us. "Demons lie."

Dad looked up from his books toward us.

"A demon who's immune to salt rounds, Devil's Traps and Ruby's knife?" I asked.

"Dean, Lilith is scared of this thing," Sam told him.

"Don't you think that if angels were real, that some hunter somewhere would have seen one... at some point... ever?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," I answered. "We just did, Dean."

"I'm trying to come up with a theory here," Dean told us. "Okay? Work with me."

"Dean, we have a theory," Sam told him.

"Yeah, one with a little less fairy dust on it, please," Dean told us.

"Okay, look," I told them. "I'm not saying we know for sure. I'm just saying that I think we—"

"Okay, okay," Dean told us. "That's the point. We don't know for sure, so I'm not gonna believe that this thing is a freaking Angel of the Lord because it says so!"

"You three chuckleheads want to keep arguing religion, or do you want to come take a look at this?" Dad asked. Sam, Dean and I walked toward Dad's desk. "I got stacks of lore. Biblical, pre-Biblical. Some of it's in damn cuneiform. It all says an angel can snatch a soul from the Pit."

"What else?" Dean asked.

"What else, what?" Dad asked.

"What else could do it?" Dean asked.

"Airlift your ass out of the hot box?" Dad asked. "As far as I can tell, nothing."

"Dean, this is good news," Sam told him.

"How?" Dean asked.

"Because for once, this isn't just another round of demon crap," Sam answered. "I mean, maybe you were saved by one of the good guys, you know?"

"Okay," Dean told us. "Say it's true. Say there are angels. Then what? There's a God?"

"At this point, Vegas money's on yeah," Dad answered.

"I don't know, guys," Dean told us.

"Okay, look," I told him. "I know you're not all choirboy about this stuff, but this is becoming less and less about faith and more and more about proof."

"Proof?" Dean repeated.

"Yes," I answered.

"Proof that there's a God out there that actually gives a crap about me personally?" Dean asked. "I'm sorry, but I'm not buying it."

"Why not?" Sam asked.

"Because why me?" Dean asked. "If there is a God out there, why would he give a crap about me?"

"Dean—" Sam started.

"I mean, I've saved some people, okay?" Dean asked. "I figured that made up for the stealing and the ditching chicks. But why do I deserve to get saved? I'm just a regular guy."