Author's Note:

Hey guys! This is my first story, so I'd really appreciate any feedback-good or bad! Thanks for reading :)


Darkness.

Hard, cold walls pressing in on me—walls that remain icy despite the length of time the heat from my skin leeches into them.

So cold.

So dark.

I used to be terrified of this. I would wake up from nightmares every night—nightmares of darkness. Of cold. Of prison.

That was years ago.

I've become used to this feeling. The feeling of asphyxiation. The feeling of being buried alive.

It's the feeling of betrayal that tortures me now.

I feel deep exhaustion weigh upon me, but sleep brings such visions that I force it away. I dismiss the tugging at the corners of my mouth and the tears pooling in my eyes. I push the memories into the corner of my mind, and blink the tears into submission. I won't think about that anymore. It does no good.

Instead, I listen. I don't know if it was the vestiges of affection for me left in him, or if he just forgot, but when he bound my abilities and put me in this…this…place…he left my radio on—the ears in my mind that hear the waves around me—the waves that form sound and emanate from satellites and scream from the minds of humanity. I can tune in to it information that started pouring in with the rise of human technological advancement has been beyond fascinating. I think it's kept me sane. If I am sane.

I'm listening to the angels bicker, now. They seem to do that more and more lately—so scared, so lost, so hungry for meaning without their Father. If I didn't hate them so much, I might feel sorry for them. What's upsetting them this time, I wonder…

Hah. Of course. The Winchesters are up to mischief again. I never tire of hearing of their exploits, even if following their story forced me to listen to tales of him. They seem to be closing in on a dangerous artifact. A box. The angels debate intervening—but no, of course they won't. They sit back and cross their feathery fingers and hope that the Problem in the box and Team Winchester will destroy one another. Two birds with one stone. The discussion begins to heat up, and then—

Oh.

Some secret. An angel silenced mid-sentence.

How strange. I feel for once as though I don't know all the information. Have they…could they be keeping something from me? No. They aren't even aware of my ears.

From whom do they keep secrets?

Hmm.

I put the problem off for a later date and close my eyes, imagining my consciousness flying high in the sky, free, the sunlight beating warm upon my clean face, the wind caressing my skin and twisting my hair…I let myself hear snippets from across the globe. A man greeting his wife. A child pranking a friend. A sergeant reporting for duty. A television actor weeping into the arms of his television love.

Hah. Dr. Sexy indeed.

There is only so long that I can distract myself, though, before I begin to dwell in the past, before the walls pressing so tightly, the cold leeching into my skin, the dagger of betrayal piercing my heart begin to weigh on me, and I find that I can't catch my breath. Can't breathe. So tight. Oh God I can't breathe oh please oh please make it stop what did I do what did I do why would he do this oh please oh God oh please I just want to

Stop.

I mentally shake myself. No wallowing. It's never helped before and it won't help this time eith…

A sound.

Not a wave. A sound. My ears. My physical, honest to God ears are picking up sound. A scraping sound. I glance up to the distant roof of my cylindrical chamber, whence the sound comes, and try to force my eyes to pierce the darkness that has been my only companion for two thousand years.

A change. Something is changing. Something is different.

The scraping sound gets louder and I realize

It's the lid

They're removing—

No.

He's removing the lid. His Essence, his Grace is the key to the lock. It literally has to be him.

I feel my heart speed up, pounding hard and fast against my ribcage. He's back. I don't know if I'll stab him or hug him, but whatever I do, he has some explaining to do.

But this means…this means… oh God this means he hasn't forgotten me—he still loves me—my brother, my father in all but blood, my protector, my only friend.

Obviously it was me…I did something wrong, heinously wrong, and I am just too immoral, too faulty, to much of an abomination to see it, but my punishment is over. He's forgiven me. We can be a family again.

I can feel the sun again.

As the lid scrapes back further, I feel the shackles around my powers slide off, feel my soul climbing the edges of the cylinder, feel the euphoria of freedom begin to permeate my being as my nostrils smell smells again, my skin feels warmth.

The light is blinding, but truly, any pain is better than the numbness of the cold metal walls.

I ascend into the room waiting for me, my heart filled with gratitude, and begin assembling my particles into the shape of Kara. I am Kara.

I try to hurry. I'd like to become acquainted with Castiel's new Vessel. He always chooses such intriguing faces. I find myself looking forward to reuniting with him nearly as much as I look forward to sunlight.

Allowing my particles to settle on the cool, smooth surface of the small room in which I seem to have landed, I wallow in the glorious aroma of humanity and nature that permeates the room—the…bathroom? I look with wonder upon the tile and the toilet and the shower—things I've heard about but never seen. Oh, oh the glory of sight. I can taste the salt of the ocean on the air, feel the delicious warmth blowing on my naked back from the central heating system. Naked. Dammit. I'm going to need to find some clothes. But first.

Castiel.

I cautiously open the door to the bathroom, wondering at the cool smoothness of the doorknob against my fingertips and the sheer sensual comfort of the plush carpet on my still-cold feet as I step out into the…living space? beyond the doors. Two beds on this side of the dividing wall, and on the other…large metallic boxes. Several of them, of different shapes and sizes. As I watch, a man opens a door on one of them, reaches in, and takes out a bottle. Oh I see. A refrigerator. I've always wondered what they look like. Hmm. The man chats on the phone with another, and hasn't yet noticed me. I'm small, and tread softly, so I'm not surprised— and am actually quite relieved—that he hasn't seen me yet. Castiel isn't here—I need to find him. This refrigerator man is my best shot. I listen in.

"Come on back, Sammy, it looks like this case was a dud after all. The box was empty. Time to get some shut-eye for once."

Interesting. Could this be an infamous Winchester? The box…the box the angels worried after…my box. My prison. I heighten my senses to hear the rest of the conversation.

"Sure, Dean. I'll just pack up a few things and be there in twenty. I want to come back here tomorrow, though—it's not all that often we find a cache of cursed objects this large, even if we didn't find what we were looking for."

"K. Ordering pizza. See ya, bitch"

"Jerk."

Dean Winchester presses the telephone, causing it to emit a beeping sound, and presses it back to his ear. Ha. I've heard that sound so many times…

He commences ordering his pizza while I hide behind the fluffy chair in the corner. Of course the Winchesters would be here—it fits their profile perfectly to be the ones to release me—but where in Hell is Castiel? Why would he free me, then disappear? What did Dean mean about the "box" being a bust? Unless…

They couldn't exactly see my particles flying through the air to reform my body.

And if Castiel wasn't there to sense me, they really would think they just opened an empty box.

But no, that's impossible. Castiel sealed the prison, and only Castiel's Essence could unlock it. Only his Essence…

But, according to my recent hearing, Castiel has been pouring himself into these boys' lives with the devotion of a brother. I glance up at Dean, heightening my perception of aura as I do. Perhaps…

Ugh. He practically has waves of Castiel rolling off of his skin, out of his soul. Enough to provide a key to an old lock, especially with two of them together…

I slump back against the back of the chair, feeling bitter disappointment push my heart into my stomach. Cas never came back for me. Of course he wouldn't. I'm an abomination.

I push down the hot tears that threaten to boil to the surface and stand up, allowing the Winchester boy to see me for the first time. I step out from behind the chair just as he hangs up the phone and turns around.