Supernatural One-shots

Two Different Angels (4/?)

My hand passed through nothing, now I was on the floor, in a foetal position. Pain erupted from my insides, I screamed, my head spun, pain enveloped me. I look up, pain following my movements.

What I see, ruins me.

She stands there, a dark mist trailing her, her dress black, her whole being black inside and out.

"I know you don't want to follow in my steps, but I'll make you, I'll force it on you... or... I'll kill you." The Darkness said, her hand pointing at my pain filled body. I felt bones snap, I felt my insides breaking into peices, I felt two identical slashes down my arms.

"Charoum took to the Darkness, he has destroyed so much. I don't understand why you - born from my darkness - will not destroy, devastate and eliminate." She released some pain from my throat, wanting to hear me say something, to say I'd help.

"Fuck you!"

"Is that it?" Her hand opens and I feel the air in my lungs being sucked out, she pulled to my feet and hung me in mid-air, held me there. She spread out my wings and snapped them into small useless twigs, I screamed, shattering nearby glass, the pain extreme. The ground shuddered.

She closes her hand into a fist, the final movement for my existence to shatter - except it doesn't. I look up, feeling blood pooling in my mouth, falling from cuts, to find Amara looking puzzled. She attempts again to rid of my existance, clear me, send me to Hell, or worse, no-where. Still, nothing happens.

"What is this?" She questions as she starts to disappear in her mist, she goes silently, looking right at me. Tears fall down my cheeks, hope falls down my cheeks.

What happened?

I felt my insides start to mould back together, I felt myself being fixed. I dropped onto my hands and knees, feeling better, renewed. I raised to my feet and look around, seeing that I'd been pulled by Amara to a hidden wrecked warehouse.

I looked down at my arms, seeing the two cuts healing, two shining, bright white lights glowing from the cuts.

A miracle.

Of course, I knew he was real, seens as my creator is God's sister. I'd met him once, before he disappeared, when he was posing as a prophet named Chuck - still is - and we'd spoken very little words. All he said to be was: "be good, it will come upon you." I don't know what he was speaking about, because the Darkness, these enemies of mine don't stop, he didn't stop them.

This was God's work. This help, he helped me now, when I was in most need. I could feel his power healing me, I felt my wings begin to form once again, I felt my power restored, I felt everything become good. Physically.

I turned in a circle, seeing if I could spot him, sometimes he would be near his miracles, but I couldn't see him. I sent him a prayer.

Thank you.

I couldn't say anything to prove it, only keep on fighting, keep on surviving these attacks, to try and live.

I took a breath and stretched out my wings, looking over my shoulder, I put a hand in my wing and ruffled at it. I flapped my wings and flew.

I landed in the bunker, one knee on the floor, I look up and see three faces. Sam, Dean and Castiel's.

"What happened?" Dean asks, hand on his gun. I stand up and roll my shoulders.

"The Darkness pulled me to her. Must've been the fact that me and Charoum were so close and I was angry. Then I got a... reminder." I look to Castiel then, and I think he could sense it, the fading power from God's healing flowing from me. Out of shock Castiel mouths
"he's alive". I nod to him.

"What happened with Charoum?" I asked, not that I was bothered, I'd be happy if they had killed him. Castiel steps forward and places a hand on my shoulder.

We fly to a dark room, where a lonely lightbulb lit a very chained up Charoum.

"He just fell forward when you left and wouldn't move. For the best of us here and eveyone on the planet, I placed him securely hidden here."

I step forward to the dark angel on the floor and kneeled, placing my lips by his ear, "she will never have me." I tell him, pronouncing each of my words long and clearly, wanting it to stay in his head, know that I won't join with him and the Darkness.

I stand back up and walk over to Castiel.

"Are you okay?" I smile.

"For now I'm alright. I don't feel angry, sad, scared, I feel nice." He smiles back happily and grabs my hand, pulling me along with him.

We went back to the Bunker, landing perfectly and looking around. For once, I looked around and analysed the objects, the different artefacts, spotting an incredibly old box.

"Is that-" I mutter, walking over to the box.

"Amitiel?" Castiel follows behind me, as I place my hands on the box.
A rush of power floods through me as I connect back with something I've lost for so long.

How had the Men of Letter got something that means so much to me, belonged to me, is a part of me?

I claimed this weapon as my own over a thousand years ago, forged by some of the most powerful witches there have ever been, fused with some of my darkness. That's why I connect so deeply with it, even the box has a tinge of my darkness, to keep out unwanted guests.

"Amitiel." Castiel's hand comes to rest on mine, another flood of power brings my eyes alight, makes me shudder. Castiel's hand somehow giving me strength. He turns my face to him and I find his eyes glowing, we stare in awe and shock at eachother, almost about to move closer.

Was he more powerful with my darkness fusing lightly with his angelic grace?

"Guys?" Comes a confused voice. I take back two steps, shielding the box from Dean, though he could clearly still see it, his eyes set directly on it. "I could never open that, figured it had some sort of warding -witch stuff on it..." I look at him in the eyes.

"No one, other than me, can open this box." I slide my hand against the opening, a small click as if it had a lock on it sounded, then the lid opened. I smiled as my hand slipped in the box, my fingers brushing against the shining dark knife. One that fiy perfectly in my hand.

My knife is better than most, like Dean's demon knife. Mine was longer and thinner, the jagged side, waiver for tearing and the smoother, razor sharp side for slashing, the metal looked as if it was glass holding mist, it floated in the blade. My knife kills most, even archangels, but not God.

"I've always had this, I don't believe I lost it." I place the box down and start spinning the knife around and looking happily up at Castiel and Dean. "I need a beer."