Chapter 1
And in that moment.
The world tumbled.
It crashed and burned and spun out of control.
Castiel's life turned upside down.
x
But let's go back to the beginning. Not this moment where Castiel sits in the sickly white room. Not the moment where Castiel waits in the lonely resturant.
But further back. Much further back. To the part where Castiel has not met certain people. And before the bit where these certain people change Castiel's life.
To the bit where a small, golden bell jingles.
x
Castiel does not bother to lift his head, as the shop door opens and the small, golden bell jingles.
He is bent over the counter. He checks the inventory list. He checks it again. He scribbles a few notes on the margin and puts it back into its proper place in the folder.
What next?
The sales list, Castiel thinks to himself. Musn't forget anything. Don't make any mistakes.
His black pen makes scratchy noises. He mentally calculates profit margins. He twirls the pen in his fingers. A skill so practised, his fingers dance around it. A few tongue clicks and his answer is as clear as a bell in his mind. Castiel jots down the prices and sales and finishes his work. He puts everything to one side and continues to fiddle with the pen.
He looks around the shop. A young couple milling around here. A group of kids wandering there. Much like an ordinary day.
But each day is different.
Because in 30 seconds the shop could be raided.
Because in 30 seconds Castiel could get fired.
Because in 30 seconds he could pick up $1000.
But in 30 seconds nothing happens.
And the day continues so ordinarily.
"Excuse me?" Cas glances to the man stood infront of the counter. The stranger reaches into his pocket. "Yeah, hi. Can I get this and two packs of your cheapest? I'm at pump number seven."
Castiel picks out two packs of cigarettes from the bottom rack behind him and puts them along with the other items on the counter. Castiel quickly scans them one by one.
One bottles of water.
One extra-big pack of 'MnM's'.
Pump number seven's gas total.
And two packs of cigarettes.
$15.47, keep the change states the man. Castiel logs in the $20 and places the bills in the cash register.
The man stutters. He's going to say something. He purses his lips and minutely shakes his head. He turns to go. He turns back. "I'm Shaun. Come get a beer with me. I'm guessing you're finishing your shift soon and it's Friday night." His cliché, confident grin is quickly replaced by the scratch of his neck and the twitch of his eye. "I mean, unless you've got plans, or something. It's just, you look like a friggin' zombie in here and I guess you could be doing with a drink or two."
This is no ordinary day, thinks Castiel.
"Of course. I'd like to come. I'm Castiel." He offers his hand and Shaun grasps it with a calloused palm.
"Castiel, I'll give you my number. Call me when you're ready and I'll pick you up from your place." Castiel passes him the pen and the notebook, where Shaun scribbles down his number. Shaun offers one last cheeky smirk and walks off to his car. Castiel smiles down at his hands. He likes Shaun.
Castiel, of all people, knows that trusting strangers is something he shouldn't do.
But he seems so genuine. A stranger who just happens to stumble over the little gas station where Castiel Novak works.
He finishes his shift and tears the page out of the notebook. He drives home. Castiel fiddles with his phone, putting off calling Shaun. He sits on the couch in his apartment. The number sits in his trouser pocket.
Castiel pulls it out and holds the paper and his phone in each hand. He dials in the number, digit by digit. Castiel realises his hands are shaking and the feeling in his stomach makes him want to stop. But the fear just makes him excited.
He presses the call button.
The phone rings twice.
"Hello?"
"Hello, it's Castiel. Is Shaun there?"
"Oh, hey Castiel!"
"You said you wanted me to call when I had finished my shift?"
"Yeah, is it okay if I swing round in an hour?"
"Yes, I live at Flat 2B, Newberry Houses, on the corner of 3rd."
"Okay Castiel, see you then."
"Goodbye Shaun."
"Bye Castiel."
Shaun hangs up and Castiel puts his phone on the coffee table in front of him.
What if Shaun isn't taking him out to a bar? Could he be a pyschotic stalker preying on Castiel?
If not, what would Castiel wear? Is it somewhere expensive? Or a tacky bar?
Castiel enters his bedroom and approaches his wardrobe. He opens the door and glances at the clothes on the rail. Castiel sees his trenchcoat hanging up and his suit. A few pairs of jeans and a
few t-shirts are folded up next it.
He decides on a pair of dark blue jeans and a plain white t-shirt, with his trenchcoat over the top.
In the bathroom, Castiel brushes he teeth, does a quick shave and puts on some aftershave.
The beige trenchcoat hangs over the armchair in the living room. Castiel checks the time. 18:49PM. Castiel called Shaun at 18:25PM.
He sits down and switches on the small television opposite the couch. Castiel flicks through the channels before settling on the news.
x
Before he knows it, Castiel's doorbell rings. He switches off the television and opens the door. Out side stands Shaun with both his hands in his pockets.
His brown eyes glance over Castiel, "Can I come in?"
"Yes, of course." Castiel opens the door wider and steps to one side allowing Shaun in.
"Nice place you got." Shaun smiles and lifts up the clock on the mantelpiece.
"Thank you. Shall we get going to the bar?" Castiel asks Shaun. Shaun turns back round to face Castiel. Shaun smiles and nods his head again and waits for Castiel to make the way. He quickly picks up his phone, wallet and keys.
He opens the door and Shaun follows him down a flight of stairs to the apartment lobby.