A/N: So I had this written a good while ago but never thought to put it up. But today I decided today was the day. So give this a little read please and if you want more please tell me in a review. I don't think I'll continue it otherwise.


She opened her eyes and sighed. It was another day. Another damned boring day. Throwing back the purple duvet covers of her bed she swung her legs off to the side, resting her bare feet on the cold wooden floor. It was a chilly November morning; shivers going up her spine as she hurried to pull her worn dressing gown over her shorts and tank top pyjamas. She needed to do some shopping. Her wardrobe was getting ridiculous.

On auto-pilot, she dragged herself into her small, cramped kitchen and slammed the button on the kettle down, rooting in the cupboard above it for a jar of coffee. Once she had her brain juice made, she sat at her paper covered kitchen table, pressed play on her iPod speakers and turned up the volume. It was the only way, she had discovered, she could wake up properly enough to drive in the morning. Unfortunately for her neighbours, she had to get up at 7am for work. But who could they complain to? She was FBI.

Checking the time on her phone, she noticed it was half seven, and a string of curses flew from her mouth. Within ten minutes, she had her black hair brushed out to look somewhat presentable, and her work pants, blouse and blazer only looking barely wrinkled as she grabbed her bag and keys. As always, it was a bad start to the day.

Every day seemed to be bad the last few months. She would have a routine like most people did, but lately it was being taken to an extreme. Everything, literally everything, was the same every single day. She'd drive her crappy Mini to work, get stuck in her office with nothing but paper work all day, get home at six and then spend the evening on the couch with her cat and her new best friend known as beer. She had friends, sure, but they were both slightly occupied at the moment. Rachael was off doing book signings across the country while Jack's girlfriend had a baby and he was then nominated for mommy duty. So there was nothing for her to do with her time except hug a bottle of beer and watch old Buffy re-runs.

Except for tonight. Tonight she had decided that she was going to do something productive with her time and start back with her painting. Flicking the television onto the news channel to play in the background, she turned up the volume and tossed the remote onto the couch. While she was propping a small square canvas up onto her old easel, she faintly heard a newscaster speaking about a massacre in Carthage, Missouri. Curious, she picked up a bottle of paint and went in front of the television to get a glimpse of the news.

It looked horrible. All the women and children brutally murdered and the men all seemingly passed out, but dead. A whole town, and everyone was dead. How it was possible for someone to pull something like that off was beyond her. Why someone would do it was a whole other thing. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted her cat knocking over her cup of coffee that she had placed on the floor.

"Lucifer, you asshole!" she yelled at the black cat, picking up a cushion and throwing it at him. "You do this on purpose!"

Growling, she put down the paint and got paper towels to mop up the spilt coffee. That damned cat had knocked over the cup on purpose. The little bastard went to great lengths to disrupt her life, yet she doted on him like he was her own child. She had just gotten the floor cleaned up and was just about to dip her brush into the deep blue paint when her phone rang. She took a sharp intake of breathe, looked down and then placed her painted utensils on the table.

"Yea?" she answered without looking at the caller ID. She cringed when she realised it was her superior.

"Ms Sato, we need you to report in immediately and take care of a situation. We've got a bank robbery with hostages being held. Head down to 14th Street NW straight away and we'll send a team down. This is on you now Delilah. Do your job."

She should've felt bad about feeling slightly excited but she couldn't help it. Finally she was getting some action, after months and months of just paper work.

Gearing up with her bullet proof vest under her blazer and her gun in its holster, she grabbed her badge and quickly locked up the apartment. She sprinted down the complex stairs and pushed through people as gently as she could without going at the pace of a snail. She eventually got to her yellow beat up Mini and jammed the keys into ignition, pulling out of the parking lot and heading down to the bank on 14th street.

"Agent Sato!" another agent yelled from a black van parked across the road from the bank.

It was dark now, lights from the ambulances and squad cars lighting up the area. Delilah jogged over to the van where they had set up surveillance and communication. There were two other agents in the van, the others outside, controlling civilians and watching the windows. Delilah pulled herself up into the back of the van and peered over Agent Thompson's shoulder at the laptop screen, which was showing camera footage from earlier and also a window at the side with the suspects' info.

"They're the Winchester brothers, ma'am." Thompson told her, disbelief in his voice, eyes slightly wide. "They're supposed to be dead. Why would they pull something like this if they were trying to be dead?"

Delilah shook her head, not really paying attention to the other agent, her focus more on the faces of the two men on the police record sheet. They're crime history was bizarre to say the least; extremely random and weird. She had heard about them before, how they would casually claim that they were in fact fighting some sort of supernatural being. Dean, she thought it was, was the one who was so casual about his accusations that it was sick to think about it. It was like he didn't see anything wrong with it. And the grave desecrations? Delilah didn't think she even wanted to know what was going on in his mind. But it did all seem a bit weird. Either both brothers were insane or there was something else going on.

"Have you made contact with them yet?" she asked Thompson, returning from her own mind.

"No, not yet. We've been calling the phones around the building but so far nobodies picked up. We've still got video feed from the security cameras for some reason. We've no idea why they haven't gotten rid of them by now."

"Probably want us to see them in action," she said bitterly, feeling sicker and sicker.

She sat down at one of the tables and started zipping through the security cameras, trying to find a trace of life on the other end. She was near throwing something at the floor when the phone called. She motioned to Jenkins, the other agent who was with them, to record the call and track it to which phone they were calling from.

"This is Agent Sato," she said calmly, hoping that maybe it was a hostage.

"Th-the FB-BI?"

Delilah let out a sigh of relief. Hearing a hostage was always a good sign.

"Yes, miss, can you tell what is going on? Is anyone hurt?"

There was a sniffing and a small sobbing sound on the other end of the line before the poor woman replied.

"There's t-two men here with guns w-who're the ones holding us b-but there's a-another two men h-here and they're t-trying to stop them and h-help us,"

Delilah was surprised and annoyed at the same time. People playing heroics were just going to get others killed. It wouldn't end well for anyone.

"Listen to me, I know it's hard but you have to stay calm. Can you describe the two men that are holding you? Is one quite tall and longish brown hair and the other shorter with short brown hair?"

"W-what?" There was a sound of confusion from the woman.

"N-no, they're the ones h-helping us. The other men, t-they're ch-ch-"

Delilah's stomach clenched at the sound of silence on the other line.

"Miss? Miss, are you still there?"

Silence.

"Shit," she said as she slammed the phone down and turned the swivel chair around to face Thompson.

"Did you find where the call was coming from? Did you get live feed from it?"

He gave her a nod and moved away from the laptop to let her look in. Maybe it would clear up the confusion that was now clouding her mind. The Winchesters were helping? No, this was not right. Leaning against the table surface, she looked closely at the footage. The woman was there, maybe in her early thirties and pregnant, and she was on her own. She spoke into the phone for a minute or two before a man appeared behind her, took her in his arms and then disappeared again. Delilah blinked and scrunched her eyebrows together. The man literally appeared, out of thin air. And then just disappeared again. No, she said to herself, she was seeing things. She played it back five times before giving up and accepting that she was seeing what was really on the footage.

She showed it to Thompson and Jenkins, just to be sure that it wasn't just her, but they saw it as well and were as equally as puzzled.

"Ma'am, maybe there was a malfunction with the camera? This can't be right, it's not possible."

"I don't know, Jenkins. But whatever happened, we can't be sure that woman is okay. We have to get in touch with those suspects. Keep checking the footage for movement from them."

It wasn't long before Thompson blurted out that he saw the Winchesters and they were beside a phone. They were on their own, each carrying a gun and what looked like a machete. Delilah looked at them confused. How were these men protecting the hostages? They were so well prepared with their weapons. Putting aside their records, they'd still look ridiculously suspicious.

Picking up the phone and taking a deep breath, she dialled the number Jenkins had brought up onto his laptop screen and waited for them to pick up. She watched them on the screen, Dean pausing and looking at the phone and frowned, looking like he was contemplating. He said something to Sam and looked back at it, and then surprising everybody in the van, he picked up the phone and looked straight up at the security camera.

"Hello," came his deep voice over the phone.

Delilah was momentarily shocked as she stared at his face looking at her through the screen but got her wits back together, remembering she was the one responsible for all those people.

"This is Agent Delilah Sato with the FBI, who it I'm speaking to?"

"Hi, Delilah. I'm assuming you already know who I am so I'm not going to try to lie," came his confident reply. She could see his almost cheerful smirk on the screen. It was making her feel uncomfortable.

"And I know this is the part where you're going to ask me what I want and why we're doing this and if anyone's hurt and all that jazz but the truth is that we're not doing this? Do you hear me? We're being framed, okay? Now if you can just get all your friends to stand down for a bit, we can sort out this situation and get these hostages out alive, kepis?"

Jenkins and Thompson turned to look at Delilah, mouths hanging open. She, herself, was staring at the man who had yet to look away from the camera, an intense look still on his face.

"Dean," she heard in the background, "We gotta go. It's further ahead now."

The older Winchester eventually broke away from the camera but quickly looked back at it to say one last thing.

"You want these hostages to get out alive, you give us an hour. Okay?"

"I can't do that. Just tell us what you-"

But she didn't even get to finish her demand before he hung up, slamming the phone down onto the wall and glancing at the camera as he picked up his machete, following his brother up the hallway.

"Ma'am?" Jenkins asked, a look of complete hopelessness on his face. Thompson had that look too.

They had seen it on Dean's face. They had heard it. The Winchesters sounded incredibly sincere, convinced maybe. Dean sounded like he was determined for these hostages, but it didn't make sense. None of it added up. Frustrated, she stood up and grabbed her blazer from the back of the chair where she had hung it up earlier on and stepped out of the van.

"Keep an eye on the phone and the video feed. I'm going out to check with the guys outside and try make sense of these two crazies."

Before she went over to the squad cars to ask about the activity they'd been monitoring, she went behind the van and leaned against it, messaging her temples and closing her eyes.

"You must give them time."

She looked up with a fright to see a man standing in front of her. He had come from nowhere. It was then she realised he was the man that had vanished on the security camera footage beforehand.

He looked strangely out of place with himself, as if he wasn't quite comfortable in his own skin. He was standing awkwardly in front of her, his arms hanging limply at his sides, making him look a little slouched. The tan trench coat that was covering his simple black suit flutter at its ends in the wind, emphasising just how still and stiff he was standing. It was the stern look that graced his dark features that gave Delilah the hebejebes more than anything. It was like he was staring a hole in her forehead, his eyebrows scrunched together and his lips pressed together in a frown. And there, above and around his head, she saw it. The glowing light; the damned light she used to see when she was a child. The light that had her dumped in a child psychologist's room for seeing hallucinations. That was enough to send her into panic. The only thing that relaxed her about him was the dark scruffy hair on his head that looked like it hadn't been looked after in a week. It almost made her laugh, just how much it contrasted with everything else that he had going on. But she didn't laugh. She was distracted by being freaked out.

"Jesus Christ!" She yelped, a brief flicker of fear flashing across her face. Any normal person would have felt the same.

"No, my name is Castiel," he replied in a monotone voice.

She blinked at him.

"How did you… get here? You were the guy in the bank? You took that woman away from the phone."

"Yes," he said, looking away from Delilah and gazing into the distance. "I am an angel of the lord."

She blinked again, not quite sure how he expected her to react to this statement. But for some reason, she didn't find herself thinking it was ridiculous.

"Who is it really holding the people hostage, then? It's not the Winchesters, is it?"

The supposed angel looked back at her, still frowning, but this time more of a confused frown if there ever was one.

"You believe me? Most times when I reveal who I am I get less than helpful responses. It's quite frustrating."

He tilted his head as he looked at her more intently, making her even more uncomfortable.

"I…well… I don't know. I just do. Lots of unusual things are happening and it just seems… I don't know. What's really going on?"

Castiel paused as he was searching her face, obviously pondering on what he was about to say. There was something else he wasn't saying as well.

"The Winchesters are being framed once again. It seems the race of shape shifters enjoy making them suffer at the hands of the human law."

A bubble of laughter came from the bottom of Delilah's throat and her hand went to her mouth in hope of stopping it from being heard.

"What's so amusing?" the angel asked, confused again.

"I just… It's a lot to take in, okay? Just… If I help stall the rest of the FBI, will I regret it? Are they really good men?"

The angel looked at her properly for the first time before answering her in the most honest voice she had ever heard.

"Had Sam not released Lucifer from his cage, others would have classified him as a good man. Dean also, had he not submitted to Alistair in hell. However they are my friends and I have seen the good they do every day. They give their lives to stop the spawn of evil that roams this earth; have saved more human lives than I believe my own kind have. So yes, I consider them to be good men."

Shell shocked probably would have been a good term for Delilah to use in this situation. The angel bewildered her; it was like he didn't realise things he was saying were unknown to her, and he acted as if she already acquainted with all these apparent recent events. No wonder he looked out of place. This guy was completely socially awkward.

"Lucif-…he- what? I'm-No I'm not going to try to understand what's going on. I'll do my best to stall the situation. Just t-tell the guys to hurry up with whatever they're doing, okay?"

The angel gave her a curt nod and disappeared again before her eyes. She squeezed them shut and opened them again, just to make sure her sight was alright. Deciding all was good, she shook her head and went back into the van, forgetting completely about the officers outside. Right now, she had a job to do.