Featuring AlwaysFemale!Dean, Castiel, and several OCs, this story came to me at night, so you can bet there's going to be angst and doom and wry, witty humor. The POV of this was a bee-otch. I mean, usually I write in "she says he says" style. But I was writing in "He said she said" style. So I'd be writing, go back to read it over, and realize that I'd "seamlessly" gone from the latter to the former. It was irritating...

Anyway, the story will loosely follow the plot points of the sixth season, so if you've been living under a rock and haven't seen the sixth season yet, beware. If you don't like AlwaysFemale!Dean paired with Castiel, beware. If you don't like OCs, or OC children of the characters, seriously beware, because that's like... half the story.

Give it a chance; it's not nearly as bad as you think. Review, because that prompts me to update, and is like candy to me. And enjoy!

This is a story about a lot of things: good and evil. Angels and demons. The anti-Christ and the Messiah. God and those who try to overthrow Him.

But it all started with an angel, young by angelic standards, named Castiel, who came to Earth and fell in love a young woman named Deanna Winchester, Dee to friends and family. Both she and her brother, Sam, had been to every state, every major city, and they'd probably fought every baddie that was ever thought up by Eve Herself. And it all culminated that day, in New Harmony, Indiana, when Deanna was mauled by hellhounds and dragged into Hell.

Then, four months later, after what seemed like years, Castiel, the angel of Thursday, an angel most people hadn't even heard of, grabbed Deanna's shoulder and hauled her back to her body, healing it as he did so.

And thus began the grand, tragic romance. Love at first sight seems like a trite cliché, but here, it's suitable, perhaps even underwhelming. Because Castiel fell hard the moment he saw her.

I wonder how overwhelming it was to see her for the first time, really see her, without the raw, grotesque atmosphere of Hell twisting her features? She is beautiful, of course. She gets it from her mother. Delicate features, long blonde hair, pale skin, and a hunter's body: whippet thin and strong. Tough too. Fearless, considering the way she stabbed him in the chest without a second thought. Smart, considering the wide arrangement of protection sigils on the walls of the warehouse.

I don't know if she loved him the minute she saw him. Maybe she did and she just didn't know it. Or maybe it took her time to get used to him. But I know Cas fell hard and fast, that his vessel's heart stuttered a bit when she said his name, that he felt clumsy and stupid when he was around her, that suddenly Anna seemed like a childish infatuation compared to Deanna.

His "reconditioning" didn't last long. It took maybe a month for her love to pierce that casing, that membrane of forced obedience, and then they were back the awkward glances of longing and mutual love and confusion. He defended her, became a fallen angel for her, and in return she gave him her treasured necklace when he asked (with minimal resistance) and self-consciously prayed to God for his safety. And the whole time, the air was charged with a nameless force whenever they were in the same room.

Sam got sick of it. He liked Cas and he loved his sister and wanted them to be happy. So one day he prayed for Cas to come, and when the angel did, he had a talk with him.

"Cas," he said firmly. "How long are you going to stare at my sister?" Castiel was shocked and embarrassed.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," he said, his tone tense. Sam wasn't having any of it.

"Oh please," Sam muttered, exasperated. "It's not just you, you know. She looks at you too." This clearly came as a surprise to Castiel, who couldn't help but look pleasantly surprised.

"Really?"

"Yes!" Sam snapped. "And it's getting creepy. So say something or I will!" If Sam had been with Castiel and Deanna during their trip to a brothel, the look on Castiel's face would have given a strong feeling of déjà vu. But the words got through to him.

After the fight with Famine, Castiel hunted down that Cupid and asked him some questions.

"So…" he said awkwardly, trying to look anywhere but at the Cupid. "I have a question."

"About?" The naked angel asked, sounding suspiciously as if he already knew. Cas groaned, and if his tie hadn't already been loose, he would have loosened it.

"A girl…"

"The what that tried to punch me?" The Cupid asked happily. The incident had been quickly forgiven, particularly since the other angel was clearly head over heels. Cas shifted on his feet.

"Yes. Dee. Deanna." He glanced at the Cupid helplessly, and immediately regretted it. Looking up at the ceiling, he asked, "How does one tell someone they… um…"

"Love them?" Castiel glared at his fellow angel.

"You're enjoying this," he said accusingly. "You're pink with barely controlled glee."

"I could tell!" The Cupid said happily. "The minute I saw you two, I knew!" He jumped up and down with happiness, leading Castiel to shake his head, horrified.

"Please don't do that," he pleaded. "It's… not… Just don't." The Cupid stopped, still grinning. "Look, I just want to know what sort of… rituals humans go through to show their… affection for another."

"Well, you chose the perfect time to do it!" The Cupid said. "It's Valentine's Day. Telling someone you love them today is traditional!" Castiel nodded seriously. "Don't get her a valentine card. Children do that; it's childish." The Cupid thought hard. "Well… Is she a romantic?"

"I don't know what that means." Castiel said blankly.

"You know… Moonlit walks on the beach, candle light dinners, a dozen roses…" The Cupid's face took on a rather dreamy look. Castiel just felt a bit nauseated.

"That doesn't sound like Deanna, no," he said. "She's more… cheeseburgers and beer." The Cupid frowned.

"That's not very romantic," he pouted. Castiel shrugged. The Cupid thought for a few more moments, then snapped his fingers in delight. "Flowers! Girls love flowers, and they're used to show your… affection for someone. Especially on Valentine's Day!" The Cupid was positively giddy, looked up, and realized that Castiel was gone.

Deanna was packing up on February 15th, throwing jeans and t-shirts into a duffel bag, when she turned and nearly ran into an incredibly awkward-looking Castiel.

"Geez! Cas!" She gasped. "Seriously. It's called a door. Or hell, just knock on the wall or something…" She trailed off, seeing first his look, and then the bouquet of flowers in his hand. "Are those flowers?"

"Yes…" Castiel muttered, steadfastly refusing to look at her. He'd been alive since practically the beginning of humanity, and he'd literally never felt so awkward and stupid and young. He held them out stiffly. "They're… Well, they're for you." He felt her take them. "Happy Valentine's Day."

She chuckled fondly. "Valentine's Day was yesterday," she reminded him gently. "But it's fine." He heard her inhale deeply. "These are wonderful, Cas. What's it made of?"

"Roses and larkspur," he replied, daring to look up. She was holding the flowers very gently, as if she was afraid she'd drop them and they'd shatter. She was grinning; he loved her smile, it was surprisingly wide and bright, considering all she'd been through.

"They're beautiful," she whispered. "Thank you, Castiel." His heart stumbled a bit, a thoroughly humbling and uncomfortable experience, and he swallowed hard.

"The Cupid said that this was a ritual of great meaning." Not quite… but close enough. Deanna laughed.

"For some people."

"For you?" He asked. Deanna mimicked his head tilt, her green eyes trained on him.

"Perhaps," she said, and it was all ridiculous. They were dancing around each other, even when Castiel performed the ritual that was supposed to show his feelings.

Perhaps the thoughts running through his head played on his face more than he meant them too, or maybe she'd been thinking the same thing. For whatever reason, Deanna's eyes softened, and she got on her tiptoes and kissed Castiel swiftly on the cheek.

The mood shifted palpably and abruptly. They stared at each other, equally shocked by her action. The moment was cracked, but not shattered, by the sound of the Impala's car horn. Deanna looked away, not seeing Castiel follow her movements with his eyes.

"That's Sammy," she said breathlessly. She started to walk away. "I need to-"

Castiel reached out and grabbed her arm, cutting off her motion and her words. She turned back, and again, their eyes met. And with a sigh that was at once resigned, pained, amused, and desperate, Castiel leaned down and kissed her.

The spark of tragic romance had been there since they'd met, but it exploded that day. They parted with shy smiles and meaningful glances. Castiel managed to maintain some façade of composure, but Deanna was grinning ear to ear the whole drive to the next job, so Sam figured it out in about six seconds.

Time passed with really no change in the relationship. Quick kisses and shy looks. She made him feel human. He made her feel beautiful.

When God refused to help and Castiel tried to drink himself into oblivion, she was there to drag him back onto his feet, brush him off, and give him aspirin for the headache.

When desperation drove Deanna to the brink of saying "yes" to Michael, Castiel felt more betrayed than he ever had in his life. Outraged and grief-stricken, he walked the narrow line between reckless and suicidal in the warehouse that contained the beautiful room. When he heard Deanna's voice, he was regretful and proud and relieved all at once.

The night before Sam said yes to Lucifer, Castiel was more human than he ever had been before. He looked at Deanna and felt the very human, very primal feelings of lust and desire.

Both of them fell into bed together, in a tangle of naked limbs and moans. They fell asleep holding each other, and they were equal parts content and terrified.

And then, abruptly, it was Apocalypse Now, and Deanna watched Castiel die and Bobby die and, finally, Sam die. And just when she thought she was alone in the graveyard, Castiel was back.

If she doubted that her feelings were anything but love before that, the rapturous joy she felt when he touched her temple and cast away the pain sold her for good.

But they part on a tense note, one angry at the world and the other suddenly thrust into a position that required time and dedication. Bitter, licking her wounds, Deanna didn't call Castiel again. She drove from crappy hotel to crappy hotel, too emotionally exhausted to drink herself or screw herself into oblivion.

She wanted Cas, but she nursed her anger until pride overpowered love.

She didn't even call him when the pregnancy test came back positive.

She just went to Bobby's, the baby bump beginning to form, and said to the stunned father figure, "Think I can stay with you for awhile, Bobby?"

And that's how this story begins. Let's see how it ends.