I suppose we all had some forewarning that Castiel would be going away, especially when Misha Collins was cut as a regular.  But now that he has gone into that obliterated pile of black goo at the bottom of a Kansas retention pond, his demise is starting to sink in a bit.  Sera Gamble has even confirmed that Castiel is indeed dead, but we know that in Supernatural that doesn't mean he's truly gone.  Yet, we are left with a hole, and perhaps a lot of sorrow depending on what fan you ask.  



Call this a fan memorial service.  Picture if you will a happy place, perhaps the peaceful garden in Heaven where the autistic man is flying the bright, beautiful kite on a Tuesday afternoon.  It's a sunny day, the bloody trenchcoat is floating in the center, and everyone is gathered in a circle to share their fondest memories of this wayward angel that in the end had no freaking idea what he was getting into when he was sent to Hell and Earth to save Dean Winchester. 
I'll go first.  

"Castiel, you had our attention from the word go.  We "little ants" as you angels like to call us never saw giant dark angel wings before and we were certainly in awe.  You saw something in Dean so yes, we liked you.  Great minds think alike!  Quite frankly at the time, we were hoping some being like you would come along and shake up things a bit.  Things were getting quite dull with just the demons running amok.  I mean, what would Star Wars have been with just the stormtroopers? 


We know that your true form was the size of the Chrysler building, yet there was something endearing about your vessel choice, tax accountant on the edge.  That thin tie never did sit quite right, did it?  When it came to life on earth you were childlike, never quite grasping all our concepts, but that's what made you so special.  We could laugh at your little irregularities, like not understanding personal space and missing every single pop culture reference that Sam and Dean threw at you.  I don't know how many mishaps have happened in my living room when I spit out my drink after hearing your deadpan words like, "She's Glenn Close," and "He's not on any flatbread."  Oh, despite the desperation of the situation, you kept it light, even when you didn't realize it. 

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You were a true friend and grasped the very human qualities of loyalty.  You took both brothers under your wing, even after one used his demon abilities to accidentally start the apocalypse and had steamy "relations" with a hot demon chick.  Of course you decided to see what that was like yourself and found that demon chicks in leather do have a certain quality.  We don't blame you for having that curiosity.


We loved your profound bond with Dean, even if he couldn't understand that you made that deal with Crowley so he could continue his life with Lisa and Ben.  It's all water under the...reservoir now.  You averted one disaster yet started another, but that's okay. Considering you learned from the Winchesters who have been doing that for years, it's understandable.  Abominations to the natural order indeed!  You have earned your place as an honorary human, at least our eyes.  

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All in all you made us laugh, you made us cry, and you made us feel for you when the writers ran out of things for you to do, and your end did come with at least some brief redemption.  Sorry to see you go so soon.  We hope that you are out there somewhere, with God/Chuck perhaps, drinking whiskey and taking on that whole virgin/hooker thing.  It was Dean's hope once you'd get laid before you die, so we can only hope that becomes an after life thing for you.

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Rest in peace my friend, you served your trenchcoat well.  If God/Chuck or some desperate writer decides to bring you back, may you never have to don the wardrobe of Columbo again."  


Okay, that's my pitiful attempt, but then again I never really know what to say at these things.  Anyone else have words for our favorite fallen angel?