DISCLAIMER: I do not own Supernatural. I wish I did. Or at least had a joint-custody agreement and got to spend time with it every other weekend with supervised visitation. Oh well…
I meant for this to be way more silly/snarky. Then it turned into what I have here. I think I may have some deep-rooted issues that play themselves out in my fics…
I would just like to say that I'm not a straight-up Anna hater. My biggest concern is that she apparently doesn't understand "dibs". But, whatever. She's gone now.
[So we're clear- the first section is set in 4.10; after the "000" break, set in 4.16; and the final section, 4.20… Ok, end of Author Rambling]
SPN Crack Day 7:
Word: Sister
Pairing: Anna; Castiel [references to Anna/Dean and Dean/Castiel]
Rating: PG-13 [for peeping and sexual situations]
Setting: Mid/Late Season 4 [Specifically the events surrounds 4.10 "Heaven & Hell"/4.16 "On The Head of A Pin"/4.20 "The Rapture"; with References to 6.03 "The Third Man"]
000
"You're stealing my best line…" Dean said, before leading the red-haired young woman to the backseat of his beloved Impala.
The hidden Angel stared, in shock, as his charge made love to Anna Milton – the girl who claimed she could hear Angels' voices in her head. The Angel who had given up Heaven for a mortal life.
Normally, he could have watched from a better vantage point – could have been closer to Dean – but he could not risk the possibility that Anna would know he was there. The movements that he could make out were slow and tender. The windows began fogging up, blocking his view.
But he could not let her know he was there.
His vessel's heart throbbed, almost like a shudder, at the sight of the coupling. His brow furrowed and he frowned, not understanding why he felt like this.
This should not upset him. This is his charge, his assignment.
A sharp sting in his hand sent his vessel's heart thumping furiously against the breastbone. Anna Milton had touched Dean's shoulder. The shoulder bearing his mark - the mark of the Angel who raised Dean from Perdition. The mark that made Dean his.
Jaw clenched, he continued to watch.
He felt no shame. He knew that humans engaged in such carnal pleasures. But he did feel betrayed and hurt, and he could not understand.
Castiel approached his elder sister afterwards, his body tensed with purpose and humming with nerves and racing endorphins.
He let out a heavy, exasperated breath, his fingers fiddling nervously in the cuffs of his coat-sleeves as he stood before her. His gaze was stern, intense, and full of passion.
Finally he spoke, "Haniel."
Her dark eyes snapped up to meet his upon hearing her former name. "Anna, if you don't mind."
He lifted his head high, throwing his shoulders back to make himself appear larger, "Haniel, we witnessed the fornication between yourself and Dean Winchester."
She raised an eyebrow, her voice surprisingly soft – so unlike her true voice, "Really, Castiel. I'd have thought you'd learn some manners while you're down here. It's rude to peek."
There was an awkward silence between them.
Anna took this as a sign of victory and smirked at the thought of rendering her brother speechless by calling him out on his voyeurism.
But the Angel of Thursday was not to be silenced so quickly.
He growled, his voice rumbling and Anna could have sworn she heard the low roll of thunder in the distance, "When a claim is made on a living soul, it leaves a mark – a brand."
She chuckled, not intimidated by his recitation of the rulebook to her.
"Is that what this is all about? I didn't realize my little brother called 'dibs' on Dean Winchester."
Castiel rolled his shoulders, staring at the Fallen Angel with what he is sure Dean would refer to as a bitchface. "It would do you well to remember that you are no longer among the Host, Haniel. Therefore you are no longer my superior."
His fists clenched and his nails buried themselves in the flesh of his palms.
She let out a breathy laugh, reaching forward and caressing her brother's face gently. There was a strange tenderness between them. An understanding between siblings.
"That's exactly why I Fell, Castiel. I wanted freedom to feel for whomever I desired – not barred from my feelings by bureaucratic bull. Not being allowed to love because they're in my charge. Because they're my assignment."
The Angel looked down at the floor, avoiding his sister's deep brown eyes. He shifted in that oversized coat of his before he took flight.
Anna sighed and walked to the barn, knowing that it was only a matter of time now.
000
Castiel found himself on a sidewalk, by the local public library. He looked around, lost at first, until he found the reason he was here.
She sat on a bench outside the front door of the library, pretending to read some book that lay in her lap. Paradise Lost.
The trenchcoat-wearing man smirked. Let it be said that even Angels have a sense of humor.
He approached his sister and she greeted him without looking up from her book, "Hello, Cas."
He stared at the red-haired girl, his bright blue eyes lacking any warmth, "Does he know that you lied to him? About not being able to feel?"
She looked up at him and tilted her head – almost looking annoyed at him for asking such a thing. "Do you even know what it is to feel? I thought you'd been given orders not to."
The dark-haired Angel glared at Anna, his shoulders tensing at her mockery of the rules and her mocking his recent 'warning'. Mocking his new feelings – this he was sure of.
But he cannot bring himself to call her out on it, because that would mean he would have to admit that he does feel.
This revelation – that he feels for Dean Winchester – is something not even Castiel is fully willing to admit to himself.
Castiel swallowed nervously and he knew that – were he human – he would probably be pink with embarrassment. His gaze trailed off, finding some bird to watch and hoping his sister did not see the odd gleam in his eyes.
But Anna did not let this go unnoticed – she saw all the doubt and emotion racing across his face. And that was when it hit her – with all the subtlety of a Mack Truck.
Her brother has never fully felt emotions because the only one he was expected to have was the pure adoration of The Father. Now that he has raised Dean from the Pit – laying claim to his soul and forging a bond not easily broken by the forces of Heaven or Hell – Castiel is lost in this sea of confusing and overwhelming feelings.
He loves – and not just in the way the Host loves The Father.
Anna can see this, clear as day –
Castiel loves Dean Winchester in the way that humans will kill for and die to protect.
Her dark-haired brother managed to look her in the eyes one more time before muttering, "I must go find Uriel – he is seeking revelation."
Before anything else can be said, he took flight, leaving Anna alone with her book.
000
The dark-haired Angel appeared on that dock in Dean's dream, knowing that anyone could be spying on them. Things were no longer safe for the Michael Sword – for Dean – and he needed to make sure that the hunter was aware of all the dangers. Even the less obvious ones.
Dean found himself taking the paper that Castiel held out to him and he watched as the trenchcoat-clad man disappeared. Staring at the paper in his hand, he set down his fishing pole – not like he was getting any bites at his line – and he studied the note.
How in the world would this address be any safer than his mind?
Neither of them knew that they had been under surveillance the whole time that Castiel was organizing the little rendezvous with his charge. The person tailing them was too good at this to be caught unawares.
The spy smirked and flew back to headquarters, knowing that the information gathered would definitely be an advantage.
Back among the Host, Zachariah – accompanied by a sizable entourage – was easy enough to find. The pompous ass was busy doling out orders as though he were the Almighty Himself. The peeping Angel recognized the other Angels as Iofiel – Angel of Beauty; Rogziel and Puriel – Angels of Punishment; Ansiel – the Constrainer; and Raguel – the Archangel in charge of punishing disobedient Angels.
Undaunted by the impressive posse Zachariah was rolling with, the Angel approached the terrifying and imposing princes of Heaven.
"Zachariah."
"Hello. So nice to see you again," the not-so-sincere reply fell flat and hollow. "How was your sabbatical on the mortal plane?"
"I'm not here for a lecture, brother. I come with news of the Righteous Man."
Zachariah's interest was piqued and – had he not been a multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent – his eyebrow would have raised. "What news would you have about Dean Winchester?"
A smile would have crept across a physical face, but the Angel only said, "Castiel has grown far too close to his charge. He forgets whom it is that he serves. It would benefit him to be reminded of where he belongs and to whom he has sworn his allegiance."