Castiel rubbed his eyes as he walked home from a long day of helping his brother at the palace. Castiel's brother, Michael, was the king, and as Michael was childless Castiel was next in line for the throne. It was often a rather trying position. It should have been Gabriel, not Castiel, but Gabriel had vanished several years ago and was presumed dead.

Michael had become king recently, and he and Castiel were still reeling from their father's sudden death that had pushed them into positions that they were hardly prepared to handle. Michael was barely holding the kingdom together, even with Castiel doing everything he could to help. Castiel had never realized how much work their father did. It was exhausting.

Castiel stumbled slightly over his feet and rubbed his eyes again. Maybe walking hadn't been the best idea. Still, it was only about a quarter mile farther, which wasn't long at all, even in Castiel's tired state.

He checked his watch, wondering how long he'd been walking and realizing that he didn't know when Michael had ordered him to go home. The slender, almost invisible hands on the watch pointed to a quarter past one. It's not that late, Castiel thought. Michael always worried about him more than he considered necessary. Just because he was still technically underage- well, he knew that wasn't it. Nothing would change in ten months with Castiel's eighteenth birthday.

Castiel was the only person Michael had left to worry about. He frowned, thinking about that. They should've had a whole family. They didn't, not anymore. When Castiel was born his mother died. Four years later their aunt was stabbed to death, probably for political reasons. Just six years after that Gabriel vanished. He was only thirteen at the time. Castiel had only been ten, but even now, seven years later, he still wasn't over Gabriel's death.

His father's death a few weeks ago hadn't even sunk in yet. Castiel hadn't had the time to process anything. He knew that death was normal and inevitable, but it seemed like an unfairly high number of people in his family were gone. None of them were old enough to go yet.

An odd sound tore Castiel from his thoughts. The meow of a cat. It sounded familiar.

"Jimmy?" Castiel asked.

A small tortoiseshell cat came out of the shadows. He affectionately rubbed his face against Castiel's ankle. Castiel picked him up, and he started purring.

"Hey, Jimmy," Castiel said, scratching behind Jimmy's ears. "What are you doing out here? You are not supposed to be outside." He tried to make his voice sound stern.

Jimmy nuzzled Castiel's shoulder.

"You missed me?" Castiel asked gently. "Let's get you home. How did you get out?"

Jimmy, of course, didn't answer. When Castiel reached his house he found that the door was ajar.

This is not good, Castiel thought. I might have forgotten to lock the door when I left this morning, but I know I closed it. How is it open now?

Castiel stepped through, closing the door and setting Jimmy down as he scanned the room for obvious signs of intruders. Nothing was out of place. He was worried, and his first instinct was to run to Michael for help. He pushed that idea aside as childish. He didn't know what to do, so he didn't do anything.

Castiel went upstairs to his room. His other cat, Shelly, was curled up asleep on his bed. He gently ran his hand along her fluffy, silver-grey fur. Castiel noticed that the curtains on his window were closed. There's something seriously wrong here, he thought. But he had always doubted his own judgement, and he didn't know how to handle the fact that random objects in his house were not where he had left them.

"Maybe I closed the curtains," Castiel told Shelly. "I guess I forgot. Still, I always open the curtains in the morning." He massaged his forehead with his index finger.

"I guess I'm just tired," Castiel murmured. "It's probably nothing." He left to clean his teeth.

Shelly rose and stretched luxuriously. She leapt down off the bed and stood beside it, regarding something underneath it. A cautious hand came from under the bed and hovered gently beside her face. She sniffed it thoughtfully, taking in the scent of blood from a set of scratches on the back of the hand. The skin on the wrist was also badly torn, and there was a trace of mud under the jagged fingernails.

Shelly rubbed her face against the hand, and it reached up to gently stroke her head. She purred. The hand patted her for a few minutes before its owner retracted it. Shelly leapt back onto the bed and started washing her paw.

Castiel walked in in his pajamas, hair rumpled. He paused uncertainly in the doorway, looking around like something was wrong. He shrugged it off after a moment, but he still looked uneasy as he walked across the room to where Shelly had been standing when the hand came out.

"Do cats ever get that weird feeling like someone's watching them?" Castiel asked as he petted Shelly. His eyes shot nervously to the closed curtains. "I feel like a little kid who thinks there's a monster in the closet. It's silly."

Castiel shivered and yawned. "It's probably just lack of sleep." He flipped off the lights.

"Goodnight, Shelly," he said as he dropped into bed.

Shelly purred and curled up against his side. Castiel's breathing soon deepened and evened out. He was asleep.

A/N Please leave a review if you want to read more of this story. It was just an idea that came to me, though I do have some ideas for the plot. I'm not sure if I'm going to write more, and I want to know if anyone would like to read more. The rating might change to T later for thematic elements, or swearing if Dean shows up. I haven't decided on pairings yet, but I can do anything but incest. So, does anybody want a second chapter? Please review.