Chapter 1: Ella
As Cas sat at the diner table across from Sam and Dean, he couldn't help but notice the young waitress who was serving a group of men a few tables over. She was petite and slender. Barely 5'2" and at his best guess, no more than 110lbs. He couldn't help but be impressed as she hefted the large tray in her arms and set it down on an adjacent table. The small, two person table shook beneath the weight of the large tray and Cas wondered how the young woman had even lifted it in the first place. He continued to stare, concentrating on her every word and movement. These days very few humans had the ability to intrigue or surprise him… today, she was doing both. As she called out the orders of each man around the table, she moved with a certainty that told him she was only calling out the orders out of courtesy. She already knew exactly which dish went to which man. What intrigued him most, was the way she handled the crude comments being spoken toward her. She handled them with grace and poise, never batting an eye or showing any sign of shock or hurt. From where he was sitting, she was by far the strongest human female he had ever met—and that intrigued him.
"Earth to Cas… you in there somewhere flyboy?" asked Dean, waving his hand in front of Cas' face.
Cas jumped and turned his attention back to Sam and Dean, eyes widening. "What Dean?" he asked, slightly worried he'd been caught staring but also annoyed that he couldn't study the waitress longer.
"Why don't you stop making goo-goo eyes at that waitress and help us figure out this case?" Dean asked, shoving some of their research across the table toward Cas.
"Goo-goo eyes?" asked Cas, thinking that goo-goo eyes sounded like a horrible disease.
"You know," said Sam, with a big old grin on his face. "Goo-goo eyes, ogling, staring, checking her out?"
Cas cleared his throat and shook his head. "I don't understand," he said. "I wasn't checking her out, I was simply intrigued by her behavior."
Sam nodded and gave Cas a pat on the arm. "Sure you were buddy," he replied. "and I'm going to get my hair cut today."
"Wait, you are?" asked Dean, just a little too much hope in his voice as he eyed Sam's shaggy mane with a look that was clearly a mix of disgust and resignation. He'd given up on Sam getting a proper hair cut long ago. But he could wish, couldn't he?
Sam shook his head. "No, I'm not, Dean," he replied. "That was my point. I'm not getting a haircut and Cas was not just intrigued by her behavior."
Just then, a loud crash resounded behind them and to their right. Cas' head snapped up, instantly on alert; as did Sam and Dean's. Each one ready at a moment's notice to draw and wield their weapons if necessary. The looked over just in time to see the young waitress go flying backwards into the small table she'd set the large tray on mere seconds ago. Thrown by the largest of the burly men sitting at the end of the long table.
Instantly, Cas, Dean, and Sam rose from their chairs and crossed the small room in a matter of strides.
"I believe you assholes need to leave," spat Dean, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
The large burly man on the end arose from his chair and towered over Sam and Dean (a rarity, considering how tall they both really were). "And what are you going to do if we decide we want to stay pretty boy?" the man asked, his eyes flashing to black before flashing back again.
Dean raised an eyebrow, but didn't pause in his response. "I'm Dean Winchester," he replied. "Considering how many demons I've killed in my lifetime, you probably don't want to stick around to find out."
The men around the table all turned to look at each other, exchanging uneasy glances, before finally glaring at the Winchesters and scooting out of the booth. As soon as they had left the diner, Sam and Dean turned their attention over to wear Cas was kneeling down next to the young waitress.
"You're sure you're ok?" asked Cas, keeping his hand on one of her elbows to support her when she was read to stand up.
She nodded and brushed off some broken glass from her uniform, smearing blood from the series of cuts up and down her arms. "I'm fine," she replied with a grimace. "Just a few scratches. Nothing I haven't dealt with before."
"You're fired!" a voice screamed to their left. All four of them turned to see the owner of the diner gun in hand with his face as red as a tomato. Pointing at the young waitress, he shouted: "How dare you anger my best customers!" Then turning to Cas, Dean, and Sam: "and how dare you three scare them off! GET OUT! You're never allowed back here again! If I see any of you, I'll call the cops!"
"But—" the waitress began to protest.
Dean cut her off. "Now's not the time to argue with the man holding the gun sweetheart. I suggest if you want to live and not get yourself arrested that you leave with us and we'll help you get cleaned up. Ok?"
Still looking stunned and more than a little terrified, the waitress nodded and started to stand, but before she even stood half way up, she gasped in pain and crumbled toward the ground. Cas instinctively reached out to catch her, only to widen his eyes in surprise as his hand felt something wet on her lower back. Looking down, he hoped it was just the beer from the shattered glasses; but to his dismay, he found his hand and her lower back soaked in blood. Without another word, he scooped her up into his arms and walked toward the diner's front door. Sam and Dean followed his lead, one in front and one behind. None of them really had any idea what had just happened, but all three men knew two things were currently taking precedent: 1) Avoid the demons if they were still in the area, and 2) patch the young waitress up before she bled out.