I
"Sammy!" I shout across the bar. He gives me a look that says "what" and when I motion for him to come over he trudges towards to me.
"Yeah, Dean?" He asks.
"See that guy over there?" I point to my far left and Sam peers over my shoulder to see the man. "He looks like he could be it."
"Alright, so we follow him?" Sam asks.
"Yeah, but I'll talk to him first."
"Dean. Are you alright? I mean I know how you can be with the Mark and-"
"I'm handling it. Alright?" Before he can say anything else, I stand up and begin walking toward the strange man. On my walk over, I try to deduce what I know about him. "Long tan trench coat... short dark hair, almost black, that hasn't been combed... he has a grey- blue tie and it's loose... Maybe a tired office worker? But who wears trench coats anymore? Appears to be Canadian although he could be Russian... Oh who am I kidding? I can never be Sherlock."
I choose just to go for it and plop down across from him in the empty chair.
"Is this seat taken?" I ask. "Time to turn on the charm." The man looks up at me slowly. I tense up as he stares at me with piercing blue sapphires. His eyes are intense and cold, like ice. Most blue eyes are so captivating you swear that you could just dive into them, but when I peer into his frozen irises, I feel an electrical chill run down my spine.. Every tendril of various shades of incandescent striking white-blue staying lined up next to one and other making his eyes seem like a white tundra, as if a blizzard is eternally raging on with a black void in the center that are his pupils. They don't capture light,but defy it. Eyes so blue they literally glow.
The man's lips move to form the word, "No." and the voice that comes out is husky and deep.
I clear my throat and say, "My name is Jerry. Jerry Wanek." I extend my hand to him and he takes it, shaking it once.
"Jimmy Novak."
"So what brings you here tonight?" I ask.
"Just needed a place to think."
"In a bar?" I question and open my arms slightly for reference.
"Why not?"
I nod and after a few awkward moments of silence, I decide I need to get closer to him.
"That's a nice jacket." I say as I flash a smile.
"Thanks."
I stand up and walk over to his side and feel the arm, pretending to appreciate the fabric, however, I'm looking for a weapon. I move to the other arm and he looks at me like I'm a creep, but I've found what I'm looking for: there's a knife. We're so close I can smell his after shave... Keep it together, Dean. You're already being awkward... I think.
"I'm going to leave, now. Have a good night." Jimmy says suddenly, standing up quickly and pushing me back slightly.
"Did he feel me?" I wonder as he gets up and smooths out his jacket before shaking my hand once more.
"Take it easy, Jim," I say turning around to hurry back to Sam, however I can sense he is staring at me with eyes like daggers, watching my every movement.
There is a lingering scent on my hands from touching him and it made me long to be near him again. Sam greets me with a shot of whiskey that I down immediately and I recoil from the burn as the alcohol goes down my throat and sparks a fire my belly.
"Find anything?" Sam asks after he notices I finish my swallow.
Setting the shot glass upside down on the bar counter, I state, "He has a hidden knife."
Sam, getting noticeably more excited, says, "Really? Well, it's not a definite, but we should follow him anyway." Sam says sticking his moose arms into the sleeves of his jacket and shrugging it on.
"Seems like the only option," I say, slipping my leather jacket over my black tee shirt as well. "He's leaving out the right entrance."
"Alright let's go."
As we're following Jimmy out to his car, all I can think about are his eyes; how can they be so captivating and cold? When he looked at me they cut into me like a knife slicing through my soul and holding me open for him to see right through me.
The Impala is really easy to find with the afternoon sun reflecting off of its shiny exterior.
"...going to go?" Sam asks me, already sitting in the car and talking to me through the open window.
"Huh?" I shake my head to wake me from my daze.
"Aren't we going, Dean?" Sam restates.
"Oh yeah. Yeah let's go." I groan, opening the car to my Baby. My black 1967 Chevy Impala is my pride and joy. Sure her doors creak and she's not the most subtle of cars but she sure is beautiful. She used to be my dad's but now it's mine. I would never dare let anybody except me repair her. The sound is music to my ears as she roars to life when I turn the key in the ignition. I let her run for a few seconds before backing up out of the bar parking lot. "What way did he go?"
"Left out of here. He's in a black sedan." Sam responds.
Following Sam's direction, I head left and drive down the road for around 5 minutes. And after a little bit of speeding, the Impala catches up to Jimmy's sedan.
"There it is." Sam points out.
The car is just ahead of us and is moving very quickly as if it's in a rush. I glance down at my speedometer and see I'm going 72 miles per hour.
Slow down, Jimmy. I think.
It all happened in the blink of an eye. One moment Jimmy's sedan is speeding steadily along, and in the next a hideous crunching sound of metal screams in my ears. Out of the corner of my eye I notice Sam cover his ears and cringe from the sound. The sedan is flipped over and is blazing white smoke out the engine that is so thick it's I can barely see through. Dents and crinkles cover the entire car and the airbag on the drivers side has been deployed and now lays carelessly against the driver's seat.
I bring the Impala to a sudden stop so Sam and I lurch forward and my head gets shoved into the steering wheel, but I don't feel the impact. I open the creaking door and trip out of the car and run over to the sedan.
"Dean do you see him?" Sam asks, slowly getting out of the car with his gun out.
I quickly scan the area surrounding the car and peer inside and to my shock, see nothing.
"No… he's not here." Then I look down at my feet and just to the left of the passenger seat lay a wallet. I grab it cautiously and flip it open to see a licence and a few credit cards that look like they're from prehistoric times.
"Sam," I say and then toss him the wallet and the keys to Baby. "look those up back at the bunker. I'm going to stay and search the area more."
Reluctantly, Sam says, "Alright… Just be careful."
"Always am, Sam. Always am." I utter.
After I hear the Impala engine rev to life and the tires screech away I hasten my search.
"Jimmy!? Jim!" I shout praying that he'll hear me and respond. "Son of a bitch!" I cry. My breathing becomes labored as I search for something; a body, his coat, his scent, anything.
After what feels like hours but most likely was merely a few minutes, I hear a familiar voice behind me.
"Dean." the voice says.
Out of habit I take out my gun and spin around to face him, the barrel of the pistol aimed at his head.
"What are you." I demand.
"Easy there. I'm not going to hurt you." He puts up his hands defensively and drops the shiny silver knife he's carrying. I kick it back near me with my foot without taking my eyes of him.
"What. Are. You." I ask again.
He sighs and states, "My name is Castiel. I am an angel of the Lord." His hands drop and thump against his sides as a sign of defeat.
"A what? An angel? Come on those aren't real…" I trail off still in shock from his statement.
Then, as if on cue, thunder claps out of nowhere and dark tattered shadows rip out of Castiel's back and his eyes glow a brilliant blue. I instinctively cover my ears to shield them from the overly loud thunder and drop my gun in the process.
In a flash, Castiel sheaths the shadows and I uncover my ears hesitantly.
"What were those?" I blurt.
"My wings." Castiel replies. "I'm not lying to you, Dean Winchester."
"How do you know me?" I question hesitantly.
"I've been following you for quite some time now." He confesses, not looking embarrassed at all.
I look down and notice my gun is laying on the ground so I pick it up and put it back behind in the rear of my jeans. I turn around so my back is to Castiel and put my hands behind my head.
"Castiel- Can I call you Cas?"
"I suppose."
"Alright listen here, Cas, angel, lord, whatever you are, what do I do? Normally this is the part where you're dead."
"Well your human weapon won't work on me; a gun, right?" Cas retorts. "I am here to help you." Then he takes a step towards me. His fingers skim my shoulder and I immediately grab the gun out of my jeans and pull the trigger at Cas's chest. The shot fires with a loud boom and I can see the entry point right in the center of his heart. Instead of collapsing to the ground, Cas just stands and stares at his wound. "I told you. This won't hurt me."
With a flash of light, Cas centers his hand over his wound and heals it immediately.
"I don't even know you." I whisper, still trying to grasp what had just happened.
He steps closer to me, making me more weary of him than I already was. At this distance I can smell his cologne like earlier and it's making me wild. It smells of oak with honey. He's medium build; not scrawny and yet not muscular, around 5'11", brown-black hair like the Earth's soil that shines when he stands in the sun's golden rays. I can see him analyzing me, but his face is as hard as stone. I cannot read it.
"What are you thinking?" He finally breaks the silence.
"I- I don't know…" I'm drawing a blank. All of my instincts say to kill, though I have no idea how. Even so, I have faith in a thought in the back of my head, no matter how miniscule, that say to trust this angel named Castiel.
"I should go." I mutter, stuck in a trance with his eyes.
"Don't think you won't hear from me, Dean Winchester." Then he gently touches two of his fingers to my forehead and I suddenly appear in the bunker in my bedroom confused and anxious.
Thanks for reading! Please review to let me know how you like it or if I need to change anything. This is my first fanfic !