First of all, I'm really sorry I haven't updated The Devil's Own; I've tried to find my inspiration. This is a short story that I started a while ago; I've wanted to write a Castiel centric story for a while now. The story sets in the beginning of season 5 and it's dedicated to Jess. Happy birthday :)
Prologue
Castiel didn't sleep, he never had. An angel didn't require any sleep. Perhaps he wasn't as powerful as he had been before rebelling against Heaven, but he was still an angel. He had no need to close his eyes, but for some reason they were closed now. He really couldn't understand why. Slowly he opened them and found himself looking at a ceiling. He was lying on his back. On a bed. That made absolutely no sense to him. He got into a sitting position, only to notice that he had no clothes on.
That made even less sense to him, he had no need to take his clothes off; he didn't need to bathe or wash his clothes. His eyes scanned the small room he was in. It was furnished with two worn-out armchairs, an old looking dresser, a small TV, a lamp and a queen size bed. There were some paintings hanging on the wall, the carpet looked everything but clean and he saw a glimpse of a bright motel sign through the window that was covered with lime curtains.
He had no idea where he was and he had no memory of coming here. The last thing he remembered was… Strangely he wasn't really sure. The whole thing was very troubling. At least he saw his clothes lying on the floor. Before he managed to get up, he heard something. A sigh. Quickly he turned around and saw a woman lying on the bed. It seemed that she had no clothes on either. For a moment Castiel couldn't do anything except stare at her. Her eyes were closed and she looked very peaceful, her light red hair was spread out across the pillow.
Castiel found it difficult to estimate how old she was, but he would have guessed that she was younger than his vessel. Perhaps around Sam's age. She didn't look in any way familiar to Castiel, he was certain that he hadn't seen her before. She sighed in her sleep and moved her hand, revealing her wrist. Castiel noticed it immediately, the symbol on her wrist. He didn't recognize it, but he could tell that it was a very old symbol. A demonic symbol? No, something else.
He was just about to take a closer look when he saw his own wrist. He had the same symbol. What… He lifted his wrist in front of his face and observed the symbol before carefully touching it. How had this happened? Why had he no memory of it? He looked at the woman again. Had she done this? Determinedly he placed his palm on her forehead. She was a human.
How had he ended up here with her? He needed some answers and he was just about to wake her up when it occurred to him that perhaps he should get dressed first. He noticed a lilac dress lying on the floor next to his clothes. For some reason they had both undressed. Her underwear seemed to be behind one of the armchairs. After getting dressed he leaned towards her.
"Miss? Miss?"
She sighed and slowly opened her eyes.
"I need to ask you few questions," he stated.
She looked frightened and confused, but when she noticed him there was pure terror in her eyes. No more than a second later she was screaming.