Disclaimer: Sam, Dean, Castiel and any other Supernatural characters belong to the show's writers. I claim nothing and write this merely for my own and others entertainment with no desire of profit.

A/N: Ok, so like many (if you're reading this than probably all) of you, I am a huge fan of Supernatural. I've also been writing fan fictions for a few years now, and it was only a matter of time before I couldn't help myself from delving into this story. Castiel is definitely my favorite, so he of course was my first choice when imagining my own additional plotlines to this fantastic show. I know there are a lot of Dean/Cas fans out there (holy crap are there a lot of you) but this is not one of those stories. While there's nothing wrong with that specific preference, it just simply isn't my cup of tea. So here's hoping I can add to some of the other great Castiel/OC fanfics out there, and that I can bring you the reader some enjoyment from the insistent ideas that pester my mind until written. This introduction unfortunately does not include our favorite trenchcoated angel, but you can be sure he will make his appearance very soon. If you like where I am going with this and wish for me to continue, please review and leave comments. Thank you.

Are you happy, are you satisfied

How long can you stand the heat

Out of the doorway the bullets rip

To the sound of the beat

Another One Bites the Dust ~ Queen

There are few things in this word that really pissed me off these days. You know, the really good sort of pissed, when you're ready to take on the world with just your bare hands and a fresh manicure.

Usually, these sorts of situations involved my candy red Jetta in the receiving end of some impatient jackass's bumper. That or spiders…I really hate spiders.

This time, the object of my frustrations happened to be the evil vending machine, and it's dastardly plan to deprive me of a mid-afternoon Reeses.

Bastard.

If my life had a soundtrack, that old western, high noon, good guy vs. bad guy shootout tune would be blaring all throughout the break room right now, staring down at my own reflection through it's taunting glass.

My dark hair, too frizzy and unkempt to be called stylish, only adds insult to injury, the bright orange hue of my target dancing teasingly against its silver coiled cage.

"Just shake it a bit." I roll my eyes, not even bothering to glance back at the non-too-helpful coworker. He is probably already too consumed in his greasy cheeseburger to possibly be of any actual assistance anyway.

Way past the point of 'shaking it a bit' I kick against the black metal of the machine without any restraint, inconsequential matters such as vandalism, destruction of company property, or even the scuff now forming on the tip of my brand new boot not even a blip on my radar. I had more important things to worry about, like peanut butter perfectly combined with just the right amount of milk chocolate that should be so rightly sliding down the confines of my throat at this very moment.

This machine was going down.

"Karli! Are you in here?" The nasal voice of my boss has never sounded so infuriating than at that moment. Even when he had called me at 2 in the morning, drunk, very determined that one of the other interns had cheated in their last games of Words with Friends.

Oh Words…you're next on my shit list.

"Yea man, she's in here, having it out with the vending machine." The burger-coworker offers in between mouthfuls. My response, a mix of annoyance and anger emanating from my gaze as I glance back over my shoulder.

"Tell her to meet me in my office. We've got a proposal to go over and the execs are preparing a presentation that I need her to attend for summery." Again, I roll my eyes. Apparently the concept of 'within hearing distance' is lost on the pompous and powerful these days.

Burgerman locks eyes with mine, a drop of ketchup sliding comically down from the corner of his mouth. Part of me, the nice part, tells me I should probably alert him to the minor drippage. While the other part, the stronger, reeses-less induced angry part, tells me I just honestly don't give a fuck.

I give the vending machine one final kick before shouldering my black workbag, slash purse, slash lifeline.

You win this one vending machine of doom.

I am nearing the hallway when a slight chuckle draws my attention back towards the nearly empty break room. My co-worker, burger still in hand, is the most obvious source of the sudden laughter. This guy really was pushing my annoyance limits today, that's for sure.

His eyes are focusing on something in his non-occupied hand, out of view from my spot in the adjoining doorframe from the hall.

"Something funny Danny?" I question, readjusting the strap now digging into the skin of my shoulder. He doesn't respond verbally, instead cracking his neck to the side before lifting the hidden hand slowly into my line of sight. The familiar, bright orange wrapper of a Reeses package is balanced carefully between his index and middle finger.

"You ass! How did you-" I stop mid-sentence when a sudden dark, almost black film flashes across Danny's usually blue eyes.

"I think Jim is waiting for you Karli." Danny blinks, his face void of any emotion, the black cover of his eyes vanishing just as fast as it appeared.

I'm losing it. Three consecutive days of overtime and I'm finally losing it.

"Yea…thanks." Brushing it off as exhaustion mixed with a hint of insanity, I continue on through the well-lit hallway to my superior's office, only a bit more terrified than normal for a Wednesday afternoon. Wednesdays were taco salad day after all.

"You wanted to go over some notes with me?" That sentence had practically become my patented greeting these days as I peek my head and torso through the cracked door. Ah, the joys of an entry level assistant.

"You could say that." I can't help the unnatural chill I get from just being in the same room as this creep. His eyes hover carelessly over the swell of my chest as he motions to the open chair adjacent his desk. Lovely.

"Sir, I'm not sure if you remember but today was supposed to be my day off. I appreciate the extra hours, but I do have some friends left that are beginning to actually question my existence." The fact that he put up with my sarcasm is a main factor in the miracle that I even still have a job. Almost makes the job somewhat bearable I guess, but then again I couldn't really curb my clever tongue, even if I wanted to.

"I'm aware Karli," Jim leans onto the desk, supporting his eerily grinning face with his elbows, "I just don't care."

"Excuse me?" I hesitate, pausing midway through setting my bag on the floor in an uncomfortable side-lean.

"You heard me, you disdainful little bitch." Jim has the tendency to be a bit short tempered now and again, but that seems to be a bit unnecessary. I open my mouth to retort with some, hopefully, brilliant comeback, defusing this extremely uncomfortable situation with clever humor. That doesn't quite happen.

Instead, I find myself face down into the dark wood panels of Jim's desk, his hand pressing insistently on the back of my neck holding me in place.

"Jim what are you-"

"Shut up!" I can feel Jim's breath burning against my ear as he leans over me, "You have no idea how many times this guy has wanted to bend you over the desk, just like this. You and me, we're gonna have some fun tonight sweetie."

My brain is working at a million miles an hour as a hand creeps slow; torturously slow, up the left side of my rib cage, my own arms pinned between my stomach and the desk I am flattened against. What is he thinking? How could this possibly be happening? What did he mean 'this guy'? I want to scream, to fight against the invading hands groping at what feels like every inch of my body.

Nothing happens. It's as if every muscle, every bone, every atom in my body is being tied down by some invisible force. Paralyzed, but fully aware of every touch of Jim's unnaturally hot skin burning against my own as he rips the fabric of my shirt apart completely.

Something cold hits the middle portion of my spine, the sharp point digging into my skin relentlessly until I am almost sure blood is drawn. The pain is unbelievable, the known sting of tears pinching at the corner of my closed eyes.

"You humans are just so fragile." Jim drawls, releasing the hold on my neck to grip tightly at my hair, forcing my head back and my eyes to lock frighteningly with his own.

"With just the tiniest bit of pressure here," He digs the knife in for emphasis at the base of my spine, "I could cripple you completely. Any more, and well, you'll just die instantly, but what fun is there in that?"

"Please…please don't…" I am sobbing now, horrified at the pitiful pitch of my own voice pleading for mercy that will never come.

"Shh shh shh, don't waste your breath begging darling, save it for later." He leans over me once more, biting down on my ear harshly, "You'll need it."

"Hey buddy," Jim's attention is drawn back towards the door I had entered through earlier, this new intruder hidden from my own view arching against the desk, " You know that's just a sexual harassment lawsuit just waiting to happen."

Jim's eyes take on the black film that had covered Danny's eyes earlier, snarling before yanking me from the desk and pressing the knife flush against my throat. My brain is screaming at me once more to just do something, anything, instead of standing here like some broken rag doll, allowing myself to be tossed and turned without any sort of resistance.

The intruder, two of them actually, are now within my line of sight. Two men, one tall; the other not so much, stand guns drawn at the opposite end of the room.

"Let her go." The tall one speaks for the first time, his hand reaching for a large knife hidden within his belt. Jim laughs, only gripping me tighter, blood beginning to spill from the slight gash on my throat. A sudden odd rush of embarrassment washes over me as I realize I'm standing in a room of three men in just a bra and ripped skirt.

Not the time genius

Along with the flush of red to my cheeks, a shot of adrenaline pumps through me. I bring my arm forward, and send it crashing back into Jim's gut with as much strength as I can muster.

He laughs.

"Don't even think about it you son of a bitch." The shorter man warns, "Kill her and you can bet your sorry ass that you'll be lying there on the ground next."

This seems to also amuse Jim, his laugh growing louder, terrifyingly so. It's amazing how you could work with someone for 3 years, and not realize what kind of monsters they are. Of course this situation, what with the pitch black eyes, talking in third person, and referring to others as if they were a different species; things might be a bit out of the ordinary than just some hidden skeletons in the closet.

"That so? Well then, what if I just slip into something more," His free hand grips my jaw roughly, forcing my mouth open, "Comfortable."

What happens next can only be explained as…well weird is the first thing that comes to my mind. Jim's body goes rigid behind me, black smoke bursting forth from his lips as his head lolls back in response.

"Move!" The shorter man's shout shakes me from my momentary trance, just long enough for me to notice the black smoke now swirling towards my parted lips.

Well this can't be good

I attempt to move, now free from the confining grip of Jim's hands and knife. I only make it about half an inch before black clouds every part of my vision.

And then things get weird…er

Instead of invading my gaping mouth, which I can only assume this thing was trying to do; it merely continues to float helplessly about my face. I watch this odd exchange for a moment, then slowly side step from the black cloud engulfing my face. I glance to the two men still standing at the door, looking just as confused as I.

"Well, that's a new one." The taller man comments, glancing down to his partner for confirmation. My attention turns to the smoke, just as it decides to disappear into the ventilation, then to Jim, passed out cold on the floor, the urge to kick him in his unguarded stomach almost too strong to contain.

The fact that I feel about ready to join him kinda helps.

Without the rush of adrenaline and paralyzing shock to mute my feelings, things start to click throughout my thoughts, the reality of what just happened in the span of five minutes now starting to sink in. My mind spins, every drop of color seeping from my cheeks and shifting to my frantic heart pounding against my chest.

"I…what just…I don't…"

"Damn it! It's going to warn the rest of them now."

"What did you want me to do Dean? Let him kill her?"

"Hey, um…I think…I think I might need to, sit down for a second."

"Don't be a smartass Sam, you could have started an exorcism. You have the damn thing memorized."

"You were the one having a conversation with it. Maybe if you would-"

I don't get the chance to listen to the rest of that riveting argument as my skull collides with the carpeted ground, the last of my consciousness wasted on thoughts of a future migraine and the leftover pretzel I had sitting in the fridge.