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After all this time, all these decades, you would think I'd seen it all. That I was prepared for everything. I thought I knew these humans. That there was nothing left to surprise me.
Turns out, I couldn't have been more wrong.
I don't normally feel. I don't allow myself. Or rather, I've never been allowed to. Feelings lead to doubt, and angels can't doubt. We're simply not allowed. We were created to serve, to follow orders. And if you stand up, if you question, you fall.
Or rather, you're pushed.
But this time around, things have been different. I chose to rebel. I walked away. Now I have to learn to think for myself. And with that came more than I bargained for.
Who knows, maybe it was there from the start? Maybe that's why I did what I did. Or at least what gave me that final nudge, helped me decide. Whatever it was, it happened. It's happening. Always when I least expect it.
I don't know how humans cope.
Is it like this for them too? All the time? This constant nagging, like a burning reminder, always there to cloud your judgement. You can't turn it off, you can't ignore it. And it makes you do ... foolish things.
I don't know what to make of it. I don't know where it came from. I certainly don't know how to end it.
It's such a strange feeling. It catches you off guard. In the middle of a conversation, no matter how serious, he'll say something. Do something. Make one of his ridiculously stupid comments. And it hits you, like a blow to the stomach.
And then you find yourself thinking things ...
About the last time you touched him. That tingle when skin meets skin. That sudden, inexplicable urge you get, mid-heated-debate, to push him up against the wall and strike him.
And then kiss him.
He would be ... appalled. It would ruin everything. Which is why I have managed to subdue my urges. Avoid the temptation ... well, the compulsion. Because those times I do disappoint him, the look in his eyes breaks my heart.
Imagine how he will look at me if I do this.
Sometimes, I think I see something. Sometimes, it's like it's there, in his eyes too, for a brief moment. But then he shuts down, and it's gone. If he ever feels anything, he doesn't allow himself to feel it for very long.
Eyes. Eyes are distracting. I've dealt with humans before, I've guarded and guided them in the past. None of them could see through me the way he does. The way his eyes do. None of them could capture me, distract me so utterly.
Because I see so much sadness in them. And fear. And loneliness. He thinks he hides it. That he can wink and smile it all away. But he's yet to realise how well I know him. How easily I read him. It's all there, behind the smiles and the jokes.
I can't bring it up. Trying to talk to him, to ask him if he's fine. Is he ever anything but? Even when he's breaking into pieces in front of you, he's always 'fine'. Fix everything else first. Find Sam. Save the world. Never mind about me.
And yet he needs saving more than any of them.
Funny, these humans and their little labels. They have this idea that love isn't love unless it follows some strict set of rules. They judge, they accuse, they call it wrong. From what I've seen of this world, it seems to me that love is hard enough to find. Requited love even more so. Why do they insist on making it harder? It's the best thing that will ever happen to you. Just embrace it.
Even that pain you get when it's unrequited. When you know it can't be. That ache that comes with the slow realisation that he will never feel that way. And in my case; never admit to it if he does. I've come to know Dean quite well. Probably better than he should ever know. He would never embrace these feelings, even if he did have them.
Sometimes, I look at him and think maybe it's better that way. Surely it must be. Not knowing leaves hope. And room for imagination. Which is all I can do, in the end.
Because the moment I act, it's over.