So basically, all love in heaven is unrequited

Al and I have worked this out. For starters, Michael loves nobody more than God, and God is essentially apathetic to the adoration of all and sundry. (Or, if he isn’t, he’s too busy obsessing over the fact that he’s too terrible a father to actually start behaving like a decent father. It’s confusing, Me-dammit!)

So then, Lucifer is hopelessly, madly, broodily in love with Michael. He writes him epic, symbolist love poetry that tends to scan badly and centre around the darkness in his grace, his life, his relationships, his blood, his days and his nights.

Meanwhile, Gabriel watches Lucifer with unalloyed adoration. Lucifer is everything he ever wanted to be, and more so. He’s a REAL rebel, prior to the invention of the concept of rebellion. Gabriel idolises him.

Then there’s Anna, who is in love with Gabriel in a confused, resentful, preteen sort of way that generally involves her lecturing him on exactly why he is the worst and most pathetic person EVER. Her gap-toothed diatribes will forever haunt him for reasons he cannot quite explain.

Castiel is quietly and dutifully attached to Anna, in a nebulous, semi-conscious fashion that he is convinced must be repressed for the sake of decency. So he represses it. To a fairly successful degree.

Which brings us to Balthazar, who is wholly and irrevocably enslaved to Castiel. Every facet of his being is focussed on Castiel. His thoughts continually anchor to Castiel. Castiel is his love, his light, his everything. Castiel is the sum total of his every desire.

Castiel is entirely oblivious.

Nobody loves Balthazar.


(In a quiet corner of heaven, Raphael stares solemnly at the floor and considers the impetuous fledgling who has so expertly captured his heart. And sighs.)

Then Lucifer falls, and everything goes to shit.