Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.

John has never been a believer.

He was the type of person who had to see to believe, and it wasn't like he had ever encountered a supernatural being before. Evidence on this particular topic was at best tenuous, so until there was solid, concrete proof, John doesn't feel too inclined to change his mind.

His lack of belief has never been an issue either. Mary, the understanding woman that she is, was completely fine with it. John would never admit how relieved he felt when Mary dismissed it, smacked his head, and proclaimed him an idiot for being so nervous about admitting it.

His beautiful wife wasn't very religious. But still, Mary prays, and John respects her right to do so. In turn for her consideration, he often plays along when she starts talking about angels. Of course, most of the time, Mary does so figuratively. Truthfully, the man finds it to be rather endearing, but then again, John finds everything Mary does endearing.

At times he thinks that if anyone deserves an angel, it would be sweet, caring, beautiful Mary.

So, John Winchester doesn't believe in the supernatural. It would have been nice of fate to let him think that way.

Unfortunately, fate was a cruel, cold-hearted bitch.

It's funny how quickly a person's view of the world can shatter.

"Mr. Woodson?" John asked, eyes shifting around the dark garage. "You still here?" His gaze ended on an unconscious body lying face down beside a glossy, red car. John briefly wondered if the man had a stroke. He turned on the lights swiftly, and made his way over to the man. Gingerly, he turned the body over and recoiled slightly as he noticed the man's eyes. Fresh blood flowed down the man's face in streams, and Mr. Woodson's eyeballs looked like they had been burned out.

Just what the hell had happened here? He let go of the corpse, and retreated. He needed to inform the police. John turned, and was surprised to find himself face to face with a red haired woman. She was young and pretty, but her stern eyes told him to be wary. However, before he could do anything, the girl pushed him forcefully, throwing him into a shelf. He collided with the wooden shelf painfully, knocking the furniture over.

John scrambled onto his feet, trying to ignore the pain in his side. He looked at the woman bewilderedly. Who was she? Barely ninety pounds and she had just sent him flying into a shelf effortlessly. Scratch that, what was she?

The red headed girl advanced towards him. John thought she seemed a little out of it; a deduction that was confirmed once he saw her nose bleeding. She blinked a few times, attempting to regain her composure. John took this advantage to hit her with a metal pipe. The impact knocked the woman onto the hard ground. A little guilty, he turned to leave, but she was there again. This time, she shoved him into a car. He rolled over the roof of the vehicle, and landed nosily on the floor.

John felt his vision blur. Shaking his head, he moved into a sitting position, inhaling deeply. John glanced up and saw her observing him. He closed his eyes for half a second, and when he opened them, she was standing before him. The woman wrapped her slim fingers around his neck and forced him against the wall behind him. John struggled in her strong grip, and for a moment, he could see remorse flash in her hazel irises.

"I'm sorry," the woman said apologetically before her eyes became cold again.

He choked. She had cut off his oxygen supply and his lungs were starting to feel the strain. Was he seriously going to die here? His question was answered by a man who appeared behind her instantaneously. The trench coat wearing man was carrying a weird looking weapon. But nevertheless, it was a knife. The woman appeared to sense him as she released her hold on him, spinning around to stop the sharp blade from plunging into her.

"Castiel," the woman greeted, clutching the knife with her right palm. Blood trickled down her arm, but the girl remained indifferent.

"Anna." The man, who had the bluest eyes John has ever seen, said. "Stop this, please. I don't want to kill you." The woman's eyes softened.

"Neither do I," She replied, letting go of the knife. "But this is the only solution." The woman, Anna, said as she vanished and reappeared behind him. She tossed him into the windshield of an old, black ford. The knife flew out of the man's hands. "Leave, Castiel. You know you can't win. Your powers are depleting as we speak."

The man stood up weakly, but faltered. He supported himself by leaning against the nearby wall. Meanwhile, John had recovered, and was currently gaining on the girl. He picked up the metal object again and stabbed the woman's back. It cut through Anna's petite body, and John cautiously moved a few steps back. The red haired woman turned to face him, blood dripping from her small mouth.

John watched in disbelief as the woman pulled out the metal pipe nonchalantly.

"Sorry, it's not that easy to kill me."

"He doesn't have to," a gruff voice said. Both of them turned to see the man from before. Behind him, a bizarre symbol had been drawn on the wall in red. A second glance told John that that was blood. The blue eyed man pressed his bloody palm to the drawing.

John covered his eyes as bright light illuminated the room. When he opened them, the two strangers were gone.

The harsh sound of sirens pierced the night. Police officers were bustling around the bloodied scene in a hurry, setting up perimeters and dissembling crowds of nosy neighbors. For what seemed like the tenth time, John told the fussy paramedics he was fine. His side barely hurt anymore. He was a marine for God's sake! All he wanted to do was to go home.

It took another hour or so before the detectives let him leave.

As John walked home, he wondered if he had been hallucinating. But the man knew what he saw. And that was two strangers, a red haired woman and a trench coat wearing man. Both of them displayed inhuman abilities. Incredible strength, the ability to teleport and what seemed like immortality. After all, he had practically impaled the woman, but she escaped unscathed. John tried to wrap his head around this. What had they been? Demons?

He felt terribly out of place. Just yesterday he lived in a world where he had been comfortable in, but now, he didn't know what to think. Apparently, there were evil, seemingly invincible things out there. John could take on just about any human and win, but against these monsters? He didn't stand a chance. What if they came after him again? He didn't know what the woman had against him, but it was clear she wanted him buried six feet under. Would she go after Mary too?

If that was so, John needed to find a way to kill these things. He had to protect Mary. John wasn't useless. As long as they were alive, they had to have a weakness. He just had to find it.

John felt the beginnings of a migraine. When did his life become so complicated? The worst part was, he knew he couldn't tell anyone. He certainly didn't tell the police. He would be in a mental institute by now if he did. Frustrated, John quickened his pace. Whatever it was, he could worry about it tomorrow. For now, he just wanted to be home with Mary.

"John." John flinched as the trench coat wearing man appeared in front of him. He tensed. The man, Castiel, had not meant him harm, but he couldn't be too sure. Damn it! He should start carrying a weapon wherever he went.

"Who are you?" John demanded, annoyed and angry. "What are you?" The blue eyed man blinked impassively.

"I'm Castiel. I am an angel of the lord."

Cassie: I hope you enjoyed it.