Who: Godstiel What: The narrative of an angry "God" Where: Godstiel's hideout When: After th raid Rating: Moderate Status: Closed
So things really weren't as they seemed in this place. Balthazar was alive, as were many others that shouldn't, and the joined th ranks of the ones who wouldn't bow - the ones that wouldn't bow to him. This aggravated thsi higher being so very much as he mused on the concepts while pacing the outside of the building that he lead them to.
Cold blue eyes barely brushed over the bodies of the angels that were killed by Dean's people, recognizing them in passing as nothing more then canon fodder. Yes, the were once angels and his family, but Godstiel was much better then them now. They weren't exactly his creations either. Just something leftover from a previous ruler and a poor one, at that.
He stopped, kneeling down to study the burned out wings of one of the deceased. Godstiel tilted his head as fingertips brushed over the ash. They had been so unprepared for the threat and underestimated them.
But not next time. He needed stronger followers and a better advantage against them. No, Godstiel swore that next time would be different. Next time he would strike them down...