You weren't asking for much, just a little acknowledgement, maybe a kind word thrown your way. Maybe a little "Hey, looking good Y/N." But no, you got nothing. Dean barely looked at you and Sam was as oblivious as always. It's not like you got dressed up for either one of them, but still they could have said something.

Every day you bummed around the bunker in sweats and old t-shirts, hair pulled back in messy buns or ponytails. On hunts you dressed much like the Winchesters: heavy, unflattering jeans, tees, bulky jacket and boots. It's not like you didn't like being girly, you just seldom had the chance.

Dean was getting restless; it had been about a week since your last case and there was nothing for him to do. Finally, he decided he was going into town for a change of scenery and some drinks and you and Sam were coming with him. He didn't let either of you protest, but you were fairly sure you wouldn't have anyway - going out sounded amazing.

You spent more energy getting ready than you had in a long time. You brushed out your hair until it was shining and bouncy like you liked it. You painstakingly accented your Y/E/C eyes with the perfect shade of shadow and liner, making them pop between your curled lashes. You even put on lipstick. When was the last time anything but Chapstick had coated your lips?

You dug through your dresser and pulled out your favorite jeans; dark blue and tight in all the right places. Throwing on a midnight blue tank top and black heels you inspected yourself in the mirror. You looked good, great even. You tossed your hair and pretended to flirt with your reflection, pouting your lips and making sure every angle would be perfectly on display tonight. You were hooking up with someone tonight, that was for sure. Who could resist your sideways glance, the modest but sexy peek of your cleavage, or the way your ass looked in those pants? Seriously, though, you felt amazing. For the finishing touch you walked through a spritz of your favorite Bath and Body Works spray; one of the only girly things you kept in your room. You were set and ready to go mingle.

You loved the sound of your heels clicking on the hard tiled floors of the bunker as you made your way to the front door.

Sam and Dean were both waiting impatiently by the stairs. Dean checked his watch as you approached and raised his eyebrows at you. "What were you doing in there? The New York Times Crossword?"

You shook off his insult and turned around with your arms out, showing yourself off. "Well?" you asked with a bright smile.

"Well what? You ready to go?" Dean asked, completely missing your hint.

You bit down on your lip, pushing away the disappointment. "Yeah, let's go."

Sam was glued to his phone and barely noticed you as you brushed past him and climbed the stairs in a hurry. "What smells like apples?" Sam asked as you passed, crinkling his nose in your direction.

"Shut up Sam," you muttered, trying your best not to be insulted by their lack of appreciation. Whatever, they weren't the only men in the world.

Sadly, they might as well have been. Well, more like a core-sample of the men in Kansas anyway. You were striking out left and right; not a single man would look at you tonight. You sat at the bar with the boys, making eyes at a few select men around, but no one would approach you. After a while you decided it was because of the Winchesters and you made some excuse to move to the other side of the bar. You leaned over the sticky bar top, sticking your backside out, making sure your breasts were visible, but still nothing. The ache of rejection settled in your stomach and you ordered yourself another drink.

Across the bar you could see that the boys were doing quite well; Dean had already hooked a tiny blonde thing and Sam was busy having eye sex with a busty librarian type in the corner by the pool table. You shook your head and mustered up another round of courage, turning your gaze to a young man who had just taken the seat next to you. He smiled politely and then turned away; putting his energy into getting the bartender to notice him.

"Fuck, what does a girl have to do to get a little attention around here?" you whispered to yourself. You downed your drink and went to the ladies' room. You stared at yourself in the mirror; you thought you looked great. Not amazing like the little blonde woman Dean was macking it to, but not bad either. What was so wrong with you? Sure you were a little bigger than the other girls around, but you were a hunter; a hunter needed to eat, to be strong. You once took down a whole nest of vamps by yourself; you'd like to see Sam's conquest try that. Heh, she'd probably be too scared to even read about it.

It wasn't that you wanted either of the boys; they were your best friends. But did they even realize you were a girl? Maybe they didn't say anything because they didn't think you looked good. Maybe they didn't think you looked good because you didn't. Maybe it was that simple; you just weren't pretty at all. You stared at yourself, suddenly hating your face and you realized that had to be the case. You grit your teeth and took a deep breath. You were not going to cry. So what, you weren't beautiful; you were a fucking superhero. You hunted monsters! You crawled through blood and sludge and saved people! You did things most girls couldn't even dream about. You were brave and smart and amazing. And… ugly. You dropped your shoulders and looked away from yourself. So what if you were a badass? What did that matter if no one noticed? You were alone and that's the way it was going to stay. Fuck.

It was becoming impossible to stop the tears from sneaking out of your painted eyes. You gathered yourself up the best you could and headed out into the crowded bar without another glance at yourself. You were done; you wanted to go home. You wedged past several couples blocking your path and found your way to Dean, still chatting up the little chicky. You stood behind him and cleared your throat.

Dean sighed dramatically and spun around on his stool to look at you. "What's up Y/N?"

You smiled apologetically at the blonde and leaned down towards your friend. "Hey, can we go? I'm not feeling too good."

"You OK?" he asked, "I'm kinda busy…" He nodded subtly towards the girl and raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, OK. Sorry, never mind." Your stomach was burning now; you turned quickly to seek out Sam.

Dean shrugged and went back to his conversation, no doubt filling her with lies about being a high-powered attorney or a cop. The girls seemed to love that. You often wondered how many of them would still go home with him if he told the truth. Probably not many. But then again, he was Dean. He could probably say he was a serial killer and eighty percent would still crawl into bed with him.

Sam was alone in a booth by the door. You slid into the seat opposite him and sighed. "Heya Sam."

"What's up Y/N. You OK?" He asked, looking away from you towards the bar.

"Yeah, just not feeling great," you said quietly. You laced your fingers together and set them down in your lap.

"That's too bad," Sam said, still not paying you any mind. What did you have to do to get them to look at you tonight?

"You wanna go home? It's kinda lame here. I think Dean's sticking around but maybe…"

Sam finally turned to you, "Uh, no. I've kinda got something happening at the moment." He grinned and waved at the librarian who was at the bar getting another round for them.

Well good for you, you thought sarcastically. "OK. Cool, that's… cool."

You stood up and left Sam to his evening. He didn't even notice as you turned and headed out of the door. Neither of your friends cared that you were unhappy, neither of them gave shit that you wanted to leave, neither even fucking noticed that you left. Story of your life. You could probably pack up and leave the bunker tonight and they wouldn't notice you were gone. They didn't need you; they didn't care.

The night was warm, but not too warm that it was uncomfortable. You could probably walk back and be fine. It was a long walk, but not something you hadn't done before. You turned right and began your trek, hating yourself for bothering with the heels. What was the point?

You were full on crying now, letting the tears fall without bothering to wipe them away. You wrapped your arms around yourself and walked on into the dark night, alone as always.

By the time you got home you had calmed down enough that the waterworks had ceased, but you were exhausted and your feet were killing you. You took off your heels as soon as you got inside and shuffled barefoot to your room. You threw your clothes unceremoniously on the floor and pulled on your old sweats and a t-shirt. You pulled your hair back and up, creating your usual mess of a bun. You didn't bother to take your make up off, it was a mess already anyway, your eyes rimmed in black smudges from crying all the way home.

You simply fell onto your bed and buried your head under the pillow. Fuck this night. Fuck the men and Sam and Dean and everyone else. You were fine. You didn't need anyone to think you were beautiful; you didn't need anyone to tell you that you looked nice. You were a strong independent woman who didn't need any one or anything and… and… it was all a lie. You may not need it, but you wanted it. Even just once. Didn't you deserve to hear it?

Another round of tears appeared, running down your already stained cheeks. You sobbed into your pillow without care. No one was home anyway. They were both out getting laid, making some girl feel good; telling her all the things she wanted to hear. Fuck them.

A soft knock at your door called your attention and you looked up, smacking the tears off your face. "Yeah?" The door opened slowly and you were surprised to see your favorite angel standing there. "Cas? What's up?" You took a deep shuddering breath and tried to calm yourself.

"Dean called and said you took off without them. He was concerned." Castiel looked at you with sympathetic eyes, trying to assess your condition.

"Yeah, I'm sure he was. So concerned he couldn't come himself," you scoffed and looked away.

Castiel came into the room, shutting the door gently behind him. "Are you alright? You've been crying," he said.

"I'm just great Cas. Don't cha worry about me."

The angel walked over and perched on the edge of the bed next to you. You crossed your legs and sat up, not looking at him. You played with the hem of your pants, trying to distract yourself. It wasn't working.

"Please tell me what's wrong," Cas's blue eyes were searching your face for answers. You wouldn't look up; afraid you'd start crying.

"I'm fine. I'm just a little sad. I got all dressed up tonight and no one even noticed. I thought I was looking good, but I guess I wasn't. It's stupid. I shouldn't be so upset about it," you confessed, laughing sadly. "It's just sometimes I feel so lonely, and I just need… Fuck, I don't know what I need, but I know don't get it."

Castiel didn't speak, he just watched you with sad eyes, listening to you rant on, trying to get to the bottom of your sadness. You looked up finally and started crying again. "This is so stupid," you said in between sniffles.

"You are not stupid Y/N," Cas said sternly.

"No, I know. I just mean it's stupid to be upset about this. I know what I am. I know I'm not beautiful or sexy or desirable. But it'd be nice to hear once and while, especially if I make the effort, ya know?"

Cas leaned forward and brushed fingers across your cheek, wiping away the wetness. "Y/N, don't you realize how beautiful you are?"

You laughed and pulled away from his touch, "Yeah right."

"You are Y/N," he said, "strikingly so."

"Like as in 'one of your father's creations'; 'all God's children are beautiful'?"

Cas reached out to you again; his soft hand glided across your cheek, coming to rest against the back of your neck. He rubbed his thumb along your jaw gently. "No Y/N, beautiful as a woman is beautiful."

You felt yourself blush as the blood rushed to your face. "You don't have to say that Cas, but thank you," you said, embarrassed that you made him think he had to appease you.

"I know I don't have to. I want to." He leaned forward a little bit, his hand still hot against your cheek. "You're beautiful to me."

You closed your eyes and smiled, giving into the fantasy that he was telling the truth. Even if he wasn't it made you feel good to hear it finally. It had been a shitty night. You sighed and opened your eyes to find the angel closer than ever; he moved in slowly and very gently pressed his pink lips to yours. You gasped, completely unprepared for the contact. Castiel pulled back quickly, "I'm sorry, was that not OK?" he asked honestly.

"No, it was OK, I was just… a little surprised." You leaned in and kissed him back, snaking your hands up around his neck and running your fingers through his soft black hair. Holy shit, you were kissing Castiel! If that didn't make you feel good about yourself, nothing would. The angel held you gently; you opened your mouth to him and his tongue entered, dancing with yours. It was sweet and loving and perfect.

Finally you broke the kiss, pulling back and taking a deep breath. You kept your hands on his neck, not wanting to lose the contact completely. "That was unexpected… and wonderful," you said, smiling at your angel.

"Please do not ever think you aren't beautiful. You are amazing Y/N," Castiel said, his eyes locked into yours, and you relaxed finally; believing him and loving him for telling you what you needed to hear. To hell with everyone else, with the random men at the bar, with Dean and Sam; at least one person wanted you. An angel no less.

You smiled and kissed him again, "Thanks Cas."