Meeting My Angel

6

As soon as I maneuvered myself onto the ground near Bobby's house, I realized that I had been far too careless. Getting out of Hell was hard, even for me. All four of my left wings are severely injured. They can't even stay up or fold in, instead dragging against the ground. They had noticed my return and Castiel is immediately out next to me. He frowns and asks,

"I thought you were nearly as powerful as God. How can you be injured?"

"Legends aren't always right Cas. I'm only twice as powerful as the archangels." I grind my teeth together as a surge of pain travels throughout my entire body, human and angel. He looks at my wings, obviously worried.

"Still. My strength is a considerable advantage." Another surge of pain courses through me and I scream,

"But not if I'm dead! I need to get to Heaven now." He responds slowly,

"You know that I can't get you there."

"No. But you can give me a boost at least. You still have a little Grace left."

"That's for emergencies."

"I think that your only chance of winning dying counts as an emergency!"

He frowns, but sends me his last scrap of Grace, which gets me halfway there. I stretch my right wings, quite uncomfortably so they are on both side. I keep myself as even as I can before I reach Heaven. My vision is starting to blur and I know I need to get to the hospital. Or at least what we have in place of one. I can't remember the name, as I'm a little busy on staying completely conscious.

By the time I get to the hospital, I can't tell the difference between floor and wall. Desperately, I grasp at places my head knows to be flat. I'm not sure what I'm doing. I try to call out for help, but I can't make the connection between mind and mouth. I keep on stumbling blindly, now not even able to differentiate between floor and ceiling.

My wings start heating up and I know what's happening. Of course, I don't accept it. I can't die right now, I'm busy not dying. My right wings lash out and tear through something. I couldn't tell you why doing that, but I'm assuming there's a plan. Vaguely, I feel myself crumple to the ground.

There's a panicked shout and hands touching me. They aren't at the same time, but I can't tell which came first. Some kind of doctor talks in silly sentences above my head. I know real words are coming out of his mouth, but when they go from true, useful words they turn into the sounds of an adult blabbering like a baby.

One phrase they use all the time. It takes a long time, but finally I realize they're saying 'die'. Too much. I might not survive. Under most circumstances, I'd probably be devastated, but right now it might be the best idea. I've been dormant for too long. Much of my power is lost. I don't even know if I am stronger than the Archangels now. And that is something I detest admitting.

But that once; I wanted and welcomed death, so I wasn't given it. It could've been seconds and it could've been centuries, but I awoke in a bed. That's all I could see. A single bed. I will probably never get used to Heaven. I stretch out each part of my body, saving my wings for last.

And it's a good thing I did, because I can only feel the weight. Wings aren't just a part of an angels body. They say so many things, from personality to age to social/power status. Mine were white with silver specks.

I had been kind and forgiving, but a fierce and effective warrior as well. It showed an almost uncountable age, and since they were completely unique, signified that I was the highest rank of angels.

I love my wings. So I know as I stretch that all four left wings and one right wing are completely gone. The weight is there. A terrifying thought flies through my body, and I realize it's completely plausible.

I bite my lip and curl forward my left wings so that I can see them. As soon as I see, tears form in my eyes. This has never happened before. I look back at my wings again.

Five are metal.