A/N: Hey! Alright, so I had an idea for a fic in my head, and I needed to get it out, so this is it. Yup... Another... Supernatural... Fic. But it's Dean/OC, as told by summary. I don't believe this will be a series as I plan for my two others, but we shall see how it goes and how you like it.

Still so far away
From where I belong
But it's always darkest
Before the dawn;
So you can doubt
And you can hate
But I knowNo matter what it takes

Coming Home Part II by Skylar Grey

The door slammed open. A man with short dirty-blond hair walked in and picked me up, telling me to be silent. I looked to see what his face looked like. The only problem with that was it was to dark for me to see.

"If you make a single sound, you'll die, you hear?" He said, his voice deep and a bit grainy. I nodded meekly. "Good."

I made no reply.

He set me down on my feet on the floor, ordering me to close my eyes and stay still. I did as I was told. He blindfolded and gagged me, binding my wrists. He told me to stand, forcing me to my feet, though I made no attempt to restrain. He slapped a hand against my back, grabbing the back of neck and guiding me to another area.

Another door opened, making a cold breeze graze my skin, giving me goose bumps on my bare arms and legs. My feet met a cold dirt floor, but I still walked forward, not wanting to get hurt by my captor again. He pushed me harshly to my knees, ripping off the blindfold.

I squinted in the moonlight, noticing I was outside in someone's camp.

Once I could see again, I noticed two men were stood in front of me, their arms behind their backs. The shorter man scowled upon seeing my appearance—I was covered in dirt and blood, and the dress I wore was torn and dirty. The taller man, though, took a step towards me, squatting down to put a finger under my chin. He tilted my face towards his.

"What is your name?" He asked quietly, his eyes showing sympathy, his face tense. I looked him in the eye, feeling fearful.

"Celeste." I said, staring the man in the eye. He stepped away, still looking at me intently. I realized why. "I'm not infected, if that's what you're thinking."

"How do we know that?" The blond man asked, stepping around so he was in my peripheral vision. I rolled my eyes.

"Because that man over there," I nodded my head towards the blond man, "checked over my body for any wounds. I have none, except from him. And I have not shown any symptoms. I would have by now if I was infected."

The blond man walked towards me, looking angry. The tallest man put an arm in front of him though, stopping him in his tracks.

"No, Dean. She's telling the truth." The man said. He moved his arm back, placing a hand on the shorter man's shoulder. "Castiel, can you go clean her up?"

The shortest man, Castiel apparently, picked me up and brought me to the stream with a pile of clean clothes and a towel. He sat down against a tree nearby, looking up at the stars as I stripped my clothes off. I stepped into the river, relaxing as the cold water splashed against my skin. I looked back at Castiel when only my head was visible.

"Why am I here?" I asked. He looked at me and stood up, walking over to the bank of the river, and sat back down. His gaze looked almost apologetic.

"You were out in the woods one night, and you got knocked out, I guess. Dean, the blond guy, brought you back here. He didn't know who you were. Said there was something... Different about you, but he didn't know what."

I looked at him reluctantly. "Perhaps that is because I am not human, sir." I murmured, dipping my head back to soak my hair. I brought my head back up, running my fingers through the long locks, my fingers scrubbing against the dirt and dried blood.

"What do you mean, you're not human?" He asked, guarded now. I looked up at him. "What the hell are you?"

"I'm an elf. Don't worry, I won't do you any harm. I just want..." I trailed off, unsure of what I actually wanted.

"Want what?" He prompted, tilting his head to the side. I swallowed some air, feeling exposed. Which, in a sense, I was.

"I just want to find my sister. That's all I wish for." I answered quietly, a tear sliding down my cheek. Castiel looked at me in confusion. "She went missing a few months ago. I snuck out a few weeks ago to go look for her. I hadn't before because I was not allowed to."

I held my hand out for the towel, and he handed it to me, not letting it go. "Is something wrong?" I asked. He just stared at me, his eyes wide, his mouth slightly agape. He still didn't let go.

"I've met you before, haven't I?" He asked softly, his eyebrows furrowing. I looked down at the towel again. I shook my head.

"I do not recognize you. I'm sorry if that creates any inconvenience..." I trailed off, thinking of what to say next. He shrugged.

"Nah, don't worry 'bout it. But, uh, I've gotta ask..." His voice turned to almost a whisper, and his hand moved to the long gash on my shoulder. His fingers trailed over it lightly; the soft touch made it sting. I winced, and he pulled his hand away, though his eyes kept staring at it. "Where'd you get that?"

I looked at it, then at his eyes. His were darting around the area of wounded skin, as if searching for a fingerprint. I looked at the gash and closed my eyes, letting out a soft sigh. "The man that carried me out—the blond one... He, uhm..."

I looked back at him, and he was even more confused. "He did this? Why?" I shook my head—I didn't know.

I stepped out of the river and wrapped the towel around my lithe body. I could tell he was looking me up and down, but I didn't say or do anything to stop him. He walked over to me, and I pulled my hair to one shoulder, looking at the ground. He gave me an angry expression, and roughly grabbed my forearm, yanking me forward and back to the two men, who stood in the same position as they had when I originally went to the river. The blond one was glaring at me, for what reason I didn't know. The taller one walked towards us as we came closer. His face still held a sympathetic appearance.

"How many injuries do you have?" He asked, glancing at my slashed shoulder and my bruised arms. I shrugged. "Cas, can you go patch her up?"

Castiel nodded, and pulled me towards what I assumed was his cabin. He pushed me in, telling me to sit on the bed. I did as I was told. I clutched my towel tighter. He walked over to the closet, and pulled out a small first aid box. He walked over to the bed, kneeling on the floor in front of me. He picked up a bottle of alcohol, and poured a relatively small amount along the gash, making it sting. I bit my bottom lip hard, tasting a little bit of metal when I released it. He glanced up at me for a moment, his face stoic, before tending to the wound again. He dabbed the liquid off, and placed a patch of gauze on it.

"It's not deep enough for stitches. Should be scarred over in a few weeks." He explained, standing up and walking over to a dresser against the wall. He took a pair of shorts and a shirt out, throwing them over to me. I caught them with my free hand, still holding the towel tightly. He smirked, noticing my scared appearance. He walked over towards me, holding a large hand out. I took it tentatively, tensing up when his fingers folded over my much smaller ones. I looked at our entwined hands in wonder—why was he doing this? He gently tugged me towards the bathroom, telling me to get dressed and come back out when I was ready.

As he closed the door, I couldn't help but let a tear slide down my cheek. I got into the clothes, noticing how they were clinging tightly to my body. The shorts didn't even hit my middle thigh, and the tank top stuck to my skin like a paste. I noticed a rubber band on the counter and I picked it up, pulling my light blonde hair into a neat bun. I walked out of the bathroom, uncomfortable with the revealing clothing, and to the main room of the cabin. Castiel awaited, his blue eyes staring into my golden ones. I looked at the ground, and he walked towards me, leaving a few inches of space between us.

"Why are you scared?" He asked softly, his hand coming to rest on the side of my face. His thumb brushed along my cheekbone, and I shivered; the skin he touched was tingling. I looked back up at him, my lips quivering.

"I... I feel... Naked and I... I've never been..." How was I supposed to tell him people have never acted towards me this way? His eyebrows furrowed. I looked at the ground again, ashamed. "I've never been touched like this. Been treated like this..."

He hesitated for a few minutes. "What do you mean?"

"People have always been hostile towards me. I was taught to be submissive, to not speak unless spoken to directly. I was taught that I could not ever intervene, and... I had to do whatever someone wanted, no matter what. I could not complain, I couldn't do what I wanted. It was always about someone else. The clothes I wore were usually very modest. I dressed like that so I wouldn't get..." I trailed off, not able to say that one word. I took a deep, shaky breath. "I was a slave in more than one way. I've been basically tortured mentally and physically and I..." I squeezed my eyes shut tightly.

I clenched my teeth, my jaw tightening as I forced my mouth to stay shut. My fists were balled at my sides, my muscles straining. I felt tears freely flowing down my cheeks as I forced myself to stay still. My body was shaking. I took labored breaths, trying to calm down—I was on the verge of another breakdown or anxiety attack.

I felt his arms slide under mine as they wrapped around my waist, gingerly pulling me towards him. His chin rested on my shoulder and I relaxed my arms. My hands went to his back now, one grabbing his hair and the other clutching the fabric of his shirt as I sobbed openly now. One hand stayed on the small of my back, the other lightly tracing circles in the middle of my spine. As he traced the shapes, I shivered involuntarily, and unconsciously pressed into him.

He squeezed slightly tighter though, both of his hands now flat on my back, his chin on the top of my head. I rested my forehead on his shoulder, catching my breath as I calmed myself down. He pulled away after a while, just slightly, a small smile playing on his lips.

"I'm going to go tell Dean you're in bed, alright? So go get some sleep, Celeste." He murmured in my ear, his voice hoarse. I nodded.

"Yes, sir." I acknowledged. He looked at me with a wider smile now.

"Don't call me sir, okay? It's Cas or Castiel." He winked at me and left the room, closing the door with a soft click. I walked over to the neat bed, reluctantly slipping under the covers.

I thought of the mysterious blond named Dean as I fell asleep.

A/N: First chapter; What do you think? Good or no? Sorry for being lazy on the other two stories, as I have a lot of personal problems going on right now in cool and in my family, as well as mentally and physically in my own body. I will try to post more regularly and more often once everything's sorted out. I am really sorry.

Please read and review. Follow and favorite!

wiping the tears off my cheeks, a small smile playing on his lips.