Work Text:
A mother sits on her daughter's bed, the two cradled together under the gossamer canopy. The lamp cast light over the pink walls. A book sat atop the girl's lap. On the page were what looked like meteorites, beautiful lights against a dark backdrop. There were dark marks too, what was obviously the forest, and what looked like a figure of a man dressed in a tan trenchcoat. The girl pointed to him, "who's that man, mommy?" she asked, looking up at her mother.
Her mom smiled, straightening the book so she could read easier, and opened the cover to start reading.
"Once there was an angel.
"This angel... Well, you see, he met this man. He was a broken man. Really only a shell of what was once something more.
The angel wasn't much either.
"They spent a lot of time around each other. And although neither of them would admit it, they liked the company. The three of them- because the man had a younger brother, you see- traveled together, saving people, hunting things. The family business.
"A lot of crap happened to them. But the thing is, all throughout their shaky relationship, they never stopped caring.
The man was afraid to care, though, because it seemed that everything he let himself care about would end up leaving him or dying. Only his younger brother had gotten that from him.
And the angel was purely unaware that he /did/ care, for he didn't know what it meant to 'care.'
Then somewhere along the way, the angel got into trouble, and the man couldn't save him.
He tried. Oh, he tried. But it wasn't enough.
After all, nothing he does is ever really enough.
But the angel didn't make it, no matter what the man did, or tried to do.
The angel was the last thing the man could trust in his lonely mind, when his brother wet wayside.
His brother wasn't looking so good either near the end, but he was a hero in our eyes, and in the man's, but to himself he wasn't good enough. And the man tried to show him he was.
But then their world came crashing down, angels and all."
Charlie closed the book, her daughter's head falling from her shoulder, and set the it on the nightstand. Then, maneuvering out of the bed as to not wake her daughter, she turned off the light and kissed the girl's head. As she left the room, Charlie smiled sadly, whispering to herself that "I wished it was just a bedtime story," before going to sleep herself.