Golden eyes gazed down frantically at the bundle of blue blanket and pink skin secured tightly in a pair of weak arms. He had to keep moving, there wasn't a second to lose. The night was cold and the trees in the woods were too tall to see over. A thick canopy of oaks lie out above him, blocking the moonlight. It was a good thing he didn't need it, and probably working for him in other ways as well. He had been running for nine months, and he didn't know how much longer he could take it.
In the clearing ahead he can make out the silhouette of a man, tall with broad shoulders. The figure makes a small effort to reach the pair less than a mile in front of him. Panicking, the golden eyed man places two fingers to the head of the child, causing it to cry out in pain just seconds before it disappeared altogether, leaving nothing but a limp blanket behind. He tries to turn around and run the other way but just one step in the opposite direction leads him face to face with enemy, a silver angelic blade perched painfully in his chest.
Ten months earlier:
A simple haunting in a small town in Arizona brought an impala chalked full of men speeding into town.
"Dean, Gabriel and I are angels of the lord, I don't see why you insist on driving several hours to Arizona opposed to allowing up to transport the two of you." Castiel's blue eyes fixated curiously on the driver from the passenger seat.
"Cas, man, we've been over this. You know how much I hate it when you poof me places, I messes me up."
"Don't take it personal Cassie, your boy toy is a wuss." Gabriel commented as he ignored the threatening looks from the Sasquatch in the seat next to him. Popping a sucker in his mouth he rolled down the window causing his golden hair to fly around in face.
"You know, no one asked you to come along," from the back seat Sam's cheeks flush a bit, "I'm still not a hundred percent sure why your even here really. I mean doesn't an archangel-pagan god-trickster have better things to do than parade around with us on lame salt'n'burn hunts?"
"You would think, Dean-o, but life's been so boring now that the pagans have been pretty much put out of business and my brothers have been thrown in the cage." His normally easy going, mischievous tone had turned cold and almost hostile. "So here I am, trying to stay entertained by team free will as they do what they do."
"Nice to know saving the world is entertaining you, Gabe."
The witty banter continued as they crossed the Arizona border. Right off the highway was a brilliantly bright sign reading Turner Motel, vacancy.
Despite the fact it was barely seven am, the parking lot of the crappy motel was inhabited by dozens of old cars. Dean pulled up to the lobby, causing the engine of "Baby" to purr in a low, slow rumble .
"My, ain't she a beauty" a man seemingly in his late forties with a very impressive collection of facial hair commented before whistling.
"1967 Chevy impala, and the love of my life" Dean responded while affectionately petting the hood earning him a disapproving glance from Cas. Beaming widely at the fact he had found others that knew what true beauty was, he led the caravan of men up to the desk.
"Here for the convention I assume, so will that be four queens or two kings?"
"Two queens, those two are, uh, quiet the night owls." Dean explained in attempt to explain why the angels don't sleep.
"Kay, Room 207"
Author's Note: so weird plot bunny I had at like three am and I needed to write it down. Let me know what you think please. Oh and if you enjoyed this and are eager to read other things I constructed, check out A tale I have a hard time naming. COMMENTS CORRECTIONS AND CONCERNS MAY BE LEFT WITH YOUR REVIEWS. Thank you.