[prayer] I'm so tired, Gabe. I want to go back. God, I want to go back to when it was just us and the church. I hate what I've become. I've ruined so much. And it's lies, it's all lies. There is no forgiveness. God doesn't reward you for suffering. I have no vows, no family. I know I've done awful things, but do I deserve all this? Am I that much of a monster?
God doesn’t reward you for suffering.
It’s amazing, the ideas that humanity will build up around themselves to keep putting one foot in front of the other. The idea that suffering was some kind of test, that getting through it would earn you just reward? That’s fucked up. That’s some good old Stockholm Syndrome shit, and dad has had mankind locked in his basement from the off. Doesn’t matter if his intentions were good.
“There’s no such thing as the deserving.”
He doesn’t announce himself, doesn’t stop to think whether Dean actually wants answer to his prayers in the form of an archangel at the foot of his bed. It’s what he’s getting. There’s enough of this built up inside Gabriel that it’s even delivered straight, barely a touch of sarcasm, just something hard and caring.“There’s no cause and effect. There’s not even correlation. Bad shit happens to good people, and sometimes it’s the douchebags that get the good crap.” Why do you think he spent so many centuries bringing them their just desserts, Dean? Gabriel has always wanted a world where it works like that. Where hard work garners fair reward, and where you create your own fate. He wants something fair. “You’re not a monster, Dean. You were never a monster.”
And Dean won’t believe it, but Gabriel will just keep on saying it.
“Life ain’t fair and it sure as hell doesn’t make any sense. And if I could, I’d put you right back there.” Selfish, because he’d put himself back on the other side of that partition, too. And he could, if he wanted, he could twist reality with a snap of the fingers, but what would that achieve? They’d both know what had happened, what was outside the walls of that church. He can change the world, but he can’t change them.
“We’re all owed answers we won’t ever get, Dean. All we got is this, here. Each other. Moving forward.” He doesn’t say and heaven is still heaven, for you, when it’s over. He doesn’t want to think about it being over. Doesn’t want Dean to think about it. “All we can do is make our own rewards.”
All we can do. Us.
Is have each other.
