She could see evolution. The moment a fish was able to successfully get itself onto land. I remember being at a shoreline, watching a little grey fish heave itself up on the beach. And an older brother saying, "Don't step on that fish, Castiel, big plans for that fish.
There were eons of memories before Phaedra saw a single human being. She was only a few swallows into the beaker's contents.
There was a great deal here of a redheaded woman who, Phaedra got the sense, used to be an angel. Her story was complex; it seemed she was angel, then human, then angel, then human again. But she was surrounded by an immense and intense set of emotions.
And then there was Dean. A young man with an important purpose, a job to do. And it isn't finished... I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition... I am an angel of the Lord.
There's no such thing.
This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith.
There was more and more. It built and built. More hunting with Dean and Sam. Sending demons back to Hell with a mere touch. A light touch to the head of a human being knocking them out. Events that were huge and terrifying. Lucifer.
Lucifer. It was complex, what she felt seeing the actual devil. Anger. And a strange thing, like respect...
There was a blur, sort of like a fastforward, and he was no longer an angel. Phaedra did not get to pick and choose which memories she saw, or what she felt. The stories blood held did not allow that. The circumstances of Castiel losing his grace were not there for her to see. She just knew it happened, felt it.
By the time she reached the end of the blood, Phaedra felt as though she'd just lived at least another century.
She carefully put the beaker back down on the counter she was holding and just stood there. Recovering. She licked a trace of blood from her lower lip.