Dad’s on a hunting trip and he hasn’t been home in a few days
But that wasn’t the beginning. This story began in a lot of little places.
One day God starts forming planets and making little things that squirm and struggle and live to put on them, and somewhere nearby Death rolls his eyes and sighs.
Sometime later, on a beach somewhere, a multi-dimensional wavelength of celestial intent cautions a younger multi-dimensional wavelength of celestial intent with a warning that, roughly translated into english, sounds like Don’t step on that fish, Castiel, and an angel learns that even the smallest creatures should be treasured, for they have the power to change the world.
A father orders his son to love someone(s), but his son cannot. Rage comes, it sidles up and seeps in, but love is defiant and unyielding; it does not take orders. The son is cast out. The father never learns how to say I’m sorry.
A man comes home from a war, but the war comes home with him. It’s not his fault; that’s what wars do. He keeps it trapped, hidden, safe. A woman falls in love with him, and it’s okay that he has a war inside him, because she has one too.
One night, her war takes her love and fashions it into a knife, and tricks her into stabbing her son with it. Another night, her war takes her love and fashions it into a fire, and burns her with it.
The man’s war escapes.