Hello my lovelies, returning readers, new readers, old fans, new fans, superwholockians, Supernaturalists, and people's who's lives have spiraled past the deepest pits of Tartarus itself, I bid you welcome to this story that has been brewing for a month now and that I have managed to actually for realsies finish.

Now, I have worked hard on this, and lord knows how difficult it is to write a character with less than an hour of screen time in 10 seasons, but we can work through this. Some characters may appear OOC, some won't and some you'll be left wondering what the hell just happened. Bear with me. A project of this scale is big and showing you guys this is like me handing off my baby to complete strangers.

This is set directly after the Fall of the angels in Sacrifice, season 8 episode finale.

Also, Cursing. There will be cursing which is why this is rated T. Deidre has a potty mouth that would make Dean Winchester wince.

…

pitter patter...pitter patter...pitter patter

7:46 pm

It was raining outside.

Correction.

It was a biblical flood outside.

Deidre pulled back one of the curtains, to look outside, only to flinch when lightning flashed somewhere to her right. Thunder rolled overhead, shaking the ground and her house as it passed, not too far away from the lightning bolts. Water had already collected on the bricks and runoff from the higher parts of her small street was already flooding her front yard, but it would all flow to the bayou. She supposed it was one of the perks of living near a bayou. The water just flowed on through, without creating any dangerous floods.

Pitter...patter...pitter...patter...

Lightning flashed again and Deidre caught a glimpse of a lightning bolt in the sky, before she closed the curtains. On any other given day, she would be watching television or on her laptop, but the risk of getting struck by lightning and damaging her electronics was too high. Instead, Deidre twirled her phone in her hands, as she looked around for something to do until the storm went away. She could draw that self portrait she'd been meaning to draw, but the sketchbook hid among various notebooks in her room and she didn't want to move.

"Stupid storm," she muttered, "having to come so early. Leaving me with nothing to do."

...pitter patter pitter patter pitter patter pitter patter...

Frustrated, she placed her phone in her pocket and went into her room, well hers and her other three sisters' room. It was the largest room of the house, with two bunk beds on either side of the room, a dresser by the smaller bunk bed, a wardrobe full of school uniforms, a trophy case, a TV and it's stand which doubled as a bookshelf, DVD organizer and Xbox holder. The closet was a mess, left untouched for an entire month, but Deidre made a mental note to clean it...soon, but not now. At least it was better than her brother's room at least.

His room was the smallest, it was smaller than the bathroom even. His bed took up most of a wall, his dresser next to it taking most of the next wall, and the closet by the dresser. Next to the closet, for this was in the same wall, the door being between these two objects, was the TV and it's stand. The closet was a mess, filled with shoes her brother refused to part with, a basketball, and clothes. The top of the dresser was littered with toys, most of them space themed l egos, books directed at at both genders, some he stole from her bookshelf but would never admit, and a sock. Below the bed, was his backpack, assorted pieces of paper, a cable, shoes and some clothes. It also had the distinct smell that something had died there a long time ago.

Well, it used to smell like that until Deidre was left alone at home. His room was the first thing she cleaned since she planned on sleeping there rather than the bunk beds. After almost fifteen years of sleeping on them, a nice normal bed was complete heaven.

Her seven member family, Deidre included, were happy in their small three room house with only one bathroom. It meant everyone had to share and jump at the opportunity of food when it came. It also meant there were rarely any leftovers, but food tended to run out fast, especially during the summer. Of course, with only Deidre at home, it meant that food took a bit longer.

Her parents had taken her siblings on a retreat, paid for by their church, to to the woods for the entire summer. Deidre refused to be a part of it, feeling that a summer in the woods would be too much for her modern tastes. Deidre had another couple of months left to herself, writing letters to her parents who assured her they were fine and were assured that she had not died of starvation.

And then it happened.

Deidre had glanced out the window when something fell from the sky, crashing into her backyard, emitting a high pitched noise as it did, a bright light, red and fiery, like a fireball, or a meteor. Deidre averted her eyes from the bright light, wincing when she heard the crack of branches as whatever it was fell into her tree.

Thunder loomed over head, and the rain continued to pour, none the less disturbed by the falling object. It was almost funny, and somewhat ominous. Deidre pulled back the window to see whatever it was, but the tree was out of her line of sight. Heart hammering away, and palms sweating, Deidre grabbed her rain coat and boots, and a flashlight before opening the back door. Torrential rain and winds greeted her, pulling trees this way or that, and making an otherwise deafening noise. Tightening her coat around her and pulling on the hood, Deidre opened the door and stepped outside, making her way to the orange tree.

"Please don't be a murdering alien," she prayed, "Please don't be a murdering alien."

She shone the flashlight on the tree, half expecting to see a space ship or a meteorite, but instead, the source made her flashlight fall to the ground.

"Oh my god," Deidre gasped as she ran forward.

A man lay on his side, among the broken limbs of her tree. He seemed human enough, if the trench coat and seemingly formal shoes were anything to go by. Deidre took a hesitant step forward and knelt down by the man, reaching out to touch him only to have him stir and groan. He was still alive, but whether that was a good thing or not, Deidre had yet to find out. Gasping, she retracted her hand and took a step back, but the man didn't wake up. Her heart hammered away at her throat, making it difficult to breath, but she forced herself to take control of her nerves. Nerves of steel, she assured herself.

Pitterpatterpitterpatterpitterpatterpitterpatter

Rain was falling faster, leaving Deidre at an impasse. If this humanoid figure was a murdering alien, then Deidre was as good as dead, but she couldn't just leave the man outside in the rain, where he could catch pneumonia, because where would that leave her? With a dead body and those things stank and caused unnecessary questions. Taking a steadying breath. Deidre crouched down and wrapped her arms around the man's chest and heaved, dragging him towards the house. The stairs proved the be a bit of trouble, but Deidre managed it, earning herself a thorough soaking and sore arms once she placed the unconscious man on her parents' bed, since it was the closest to the back door.

Taking a steadying breath, exhaustion and anxiety never made anything easy, Deidre took a good look at her guest.

And her brain decided that it was simple done.

"Holy mother of fucks," she whispered, as she took a step closer.

Misha mother effing Collins, born Dmitri Tippens Krushnic, aged 40, lay unconscious on her bed, looking none the worse for wear. Despite the fact that the man fell on her orange tree, one with thorns might she add, the man didn't even have so much as a paper cut on him. Misha Collins. Misha. The actor didn't stir, and Deidre watching with fascination as the unconscious actor lay on the bed, looking seemingly peaceful despite the fact that he fell from the sky.

A sane person would have awakened him, but Deidre wondered if this had anything to do with the week old beans she found in the back of the fridge. She knew she shouldn't have eaten them. So she did what any reasonable person would do in her situation, and simple threw her hands up.

"Fuck it," she said as she walked towards her room, "I'll deal with it in the morning.

And so, that's how Deidre ended her day; with wet clothes in the laundry basket, dry pajamas consisting of a white tank top and shorts, and an actor sleeping in her parent's room.

Nothing remarkably interesting or out of the ordinary.

Maybe it was a bad case of food poisoning, Deidre wondered as she dozed off to sleep. Fate always had a way of screwing with her over the smallest things. This would all be a bad food poisoning dream. Deidre would learn her lesson and hope Fate would leave her alone.

Not that Fate cared, because Fate was a bitch and she was bored.

And so, that following morning, Deidre woke up to a very familiar face watching her curiously.

"Fuck."

...

Edit: saw some mistakes. fixed it.

review!