A/N: Kind of tells you where I'm going to be heading in my "Secrets and Sins" 'verse, but it's really the only thing I could think of. Also, kind of a crossover with both "Castle" and "Supernatural", and related to a story that I'll eventually be writing for those categories. I know it's confusing, but deal with it. Also, I'm not very good at writing the feels, so you'll just have to deal with the fact that this is my version of an emotional scene. The person to whom I am speaking, you know who you are.

(For those who've paid attention, you'll understand.)

Catie=Louisiana

Ángel=Oregon

Catie was at the end of a small fishing dock, sitting on a plastic fold-out chair with a brightly-colored cushion, lounging in the shade of a young willow tree, when he finally found her.

She wasn't really fishing—actually, she was sucking down wine-coolers like there was no tomorrow which, technically, there wasn't—but the clear waters and gently-lapping waves of the endless lake and the shining sun were so serene and peaceful that it didn't really matter.

She could hear his boots on the pebbles of the shore as he walked toward her, but didn't turn round, even when the crunch-crunch turned into a thud-thud right behind her.

Catie didn't bother speaking, just sighed contentedly before taking another swig of her strawberry daiquiri. She heard him shift his weight and saw out of the corner of her eye when he sat on the wooden boards next to her chair.

She also heard the smile in his voice when he spoke. "So, this is your version of paradise these days, eh, chiquita? A place whose purpose you completely ignore, and some booze. Not even good booze, either. Seriously, when have you ever gone fishing?"

Catie couldn't help but smile softly in response, or the barely-subdued happiness in her voice when she replied. "Hola, Ángel."

He chuckled and leaned back on his hands, soaking in the sunlight and muttering with a bitter kind of fondness, "Figures…"

This caused Catie to finally look directly at her companion, quirking her eyebrow amusedly, and what she saw took her breath away.

The Hispanic man was wearing a rather odd conglomeration of items, and every single one of them made her heart squeeze: the burnt-orange long-sleeve shirt, the brown leather vest, the dogtags, the NYPD badge hanging from a chain around his neck, the pistol that rested comfortably on his hip, the long dagger next to it…

Plus, a million other little things that she knew he kept just for her. Just so that she would definitely recognize him for who he was, after all the shit they'd gone through to find each other over and over again.

"What's so funny, cariñ o?"

He shook his head slowly then looked into her eyes, grinning. "I spent—how long exactly?—trying to get you to call me anything besides 'Oregon', or the occasional 'Espera' when you're feeling generous, and it takes both of us coming back here for you to say my first name? Really, chica?"

Catie couldn't help but snort.

"Well, now that I remember that you really are my little angel, I don't have a problem calling you that," she said, grinning impishly. Then she sobered slightly, and it turned into a sad little smile at the memory that assaulted her. "Besides, for I don't even know how many lives, angels haven't really been a source of comfort to me. Even if I didn't know why."

The young woman glanced back at her angel after quickly taking another drink from her bottle, completely draining its contents. His eyes mirrored her own pain at the recollection.

"I know, chiquita," he whispered, and threaded his fingers through her own. "I'm so sorry about that, babe. You know I wouldn't have let him do it if I remembered everything that I should have. I'm sorry about how much pain it caused you, though."

She nodded, understanding the reasoning behind his actions the last time their lives had been intertwined, now that she was free from the confusion and rage and bitter regret that had always permeated that particular life.

Then her angel looked down at their hands and let out a joyous little laugh.

"I can't believe you kept that ring!"

Catie looked down at the thick signet ring that she had spent her last life wearing on the index finger of her left hand. "I love this ring," she whispered. "It reminds me of who I am, thanks to you. The inscription you snuck onto the band that time I was in the medical bay is beautiful."

"Para mi guerrera, mi reina, mi ángel," Ángel whispered, kissing her knuckles as he gazed into her blue-green eyes. This, of course, made Catie flush with a combination of pleasure and pure, unadulterated embarrassment.

Louisiana may have been able to control the reactions her body had to Ángel (even when he was Oregon), to some extent, but that ability was clearly an anomaly, because at no other time had she ever been able to. Certainly not when they were back in this place, where the memories of every incarnation she'd been through were at her fingertips.

Then Ángel frowned slightly, a hint of confusion on his face. "What do you mean it reminds you of who you are? I didn't give it to you, remember—you had it before we even met this last time—I just risked my life to steal it and have someone carve some pretty words onto it."

This caused Catie to smile, trying desperately to hang onto whatever remnants of Louisiana's composure that she had. It was a losing battle. "Because you told me when I was pretending to be asleep that it's who I am, regardless of what my name is—I'm a warrior, a queen, and an angel in my own right."

Her voice began to break somewhat, and she had to clear her throat before continuing. "You told me that I shouldn't be afraid or confused about who or what I am, because this emblem said everything about me that anyone needed to know… and I should be p-proud that I knew from so early on who I am, who I was, and who I wanted to b-be."

Her Ángel blinked, then pulled her in for a kiss despite the tears that were now flowing freely down her face at the memory of how tender Oregon's eyes had been in that moment and the earnestness of his voice.

He pulled back slightly so that their foreheads rested against each other's, and began to speak, his voice rough with emotion.

"Te amo, mi cariña, and don't ever doubt that. No matter how long it takes, we will always find each other, because our souls know that we each belong with the other.

"I know that the last time we found ourselves, it wasn't exactly under ideal circumstances, and I am so sorry about that. I know Dalquiel tried to make up for it by keeping me as his vessel until he found you again for me, but that didn't really work out either."

Catie couldn't help but laugh aloud at the memory, and wiped the tears from her face as best she could, trying to regain some vague normality. A habit left over from being Louisiana, but not one that she really considered to be all that bad.

"As I recall," she snickered, "I punched you in the face the second I saw you in that Starbucks. I guess there was some lingering resentment about Dal."

Getting up from her chair to sit on the boards with him, she rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly and ducked her head in further embarrassment.

"Yeah," Ángel said, trailing off as she snuggled into his side after kicking off her leather laced boots and pulling up the legs of her loose, faded jeans so she could let her feet dangle in the lake. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer, resting his chin on the top of her head

The young woman sighed contentedly and allowed her eyes to drift closed.

"I like your hair," she heard Angel murmur.

It was a shade away from being mousy, and too short to do anything other than annoy her, but Catie still felt warm all over at the off-handed compliment.

After an indeterminate amount of time—during which she removed her feet from the water and swung her legs around so that they were across Ángel's lap, and he began to trace random designs on her arms and shoulders—he spoke again.

"You have ink now," he remarked softly, pushing the fabric of her T-shirt out of the way and brushing his thumb over the four-leaf-clover that rested at the junction between her right shoulder and neck.

"Mmm, I got it just before we left," she murmured, almost sleepily. "I meant to show Dan, but then we got called away and, well… yeah." Catie could feel her soul-mate nod at the explanation, then tighten his grip on her when she trailed off.

"So," she said, more alert than before, when something occurred to her. "What happened to, you know, everyone?"

Ángel straightened slightly and she shifted her weight. "Don't worry," he assured the young woman in his arms. "We got everyone out."

"Good, good. I'm glad," Catie said, relieved.

"Yeah," Ángel swallowed before continuing. "Dan and I, we were okay for a little while, but it wasn't the same after you… left. I mean, we tried, but I just… couldn't, and we both were taken down while on a mission a few months later."

She rolled her eyes, and put her hand on his cheek after his voice broke off. "You can say it, bro. After I died." He nodded, but didn't meet Catie's eyes. They lapsed into silence again for some time, before she let out a quiet laugh.

"I can't believe this fucked up little family of ours," she said, chuckling. "We just always seem to find each other, don't we? Even when we're cops and criminals and writers and vessels for angels."

Catie's voice softened. "Even when we're soldiers in a doomed war, we always find each other…"

She looked up at her soldier, her conman, her cop, her best friend, her soul-mate in an amazed kind of disbelief. "We may not all find each other every time but, when we do, we really don't half-ass anything."

Ángel grinned at the warrior-woman, the opportunistic partner, the criminal, the best friend, the soul-mate in his arms when he saw the pattern as well. "Too bad about 'Lina and York, though," he added sadly.

She nodded in agreement. Why those two had the most trouble staying in synch, she would never know. If they weren't trying to kill each other as Sinbad and Tiger, then they were staying quiet about their feelings for too damn long as Kate and Castle or just plain abandoning each other as the Freelancers.

At least when she and her cariño found each other, they almost always knew that they were with whom they belonged. Excluding that right hook when Andi Carter met Javier Esposito in that coffee shop, of course.

"Oh, by the way," Catie said. "I really like this face of yours, best one yet. What made you go back to Javi's face this time?"

Ángel shrugged.

"I dunno, just felt like it was the thing to do." He grinned and bumped his shoulder against hers when she moved away to grad another wine-cooler, and went back to letting her feet rest in the lake before them. "Besides, it looks like it was. The really important people in my life, my brother and my best friend, both used familiar faces too—besides that auburn hair, Dan was the spitting image of Kevin, and if you'd kept the same hair color for more than five minutes, I might be able to spot Dallas in there."

Catie laughed and leaned back, so that she was lying on the dock. "Speaking of, where is that little Irishman?"

The Hispanic man next to her shrugged and mimicked her actions. "I dunno, bro, but I'm sure he'll find his way over here eventually. And, even if he doesn't, we'll find him next time 'round."

The young woman smiled, grabbed a beer for her companion, and clinked their bottles together when he opened his.

"Amen to that, brother."

Then the two Freelancers, best friends, comrades-in-arms, soul-mates fell silent—waiting for their friends to find them again, happy in the knowledge that they would always find each other. They may not find each other very often in the grand scheme of the cosmos, but every time they did, it was memorable.

And they would never stop trying to make those memories.

Maybe next time around, though, we could take a little less time in finding each other, Catie thought to herself. Five hundred years is a little too long, for my taste.