This is my first ever fanfic! My OC is kind of based off myself, and slightly some Sam, Dean and John W. Obviously, I don't own Supernatural, the characters of Sam, Dean, Bobby, Castiel, etc. All I own is this story and my character. Please read and review! More will be added upon request. :)
Dean's eyes flickered from Sam, to Bobby, to Castiel in a frightened urgency. If there was something he could do, he had to do it now. But nothing came to him: not a damn thing. For the first time in a long time, Dean was thoughtless. His mind was blank and the only muscles that moved in his body were the eye muscles; dragging his eyes from man to man to … God. With arms out, Bobby gently moved towards him.
"Don't worry, son. Calm down, we'll get the pole-in-the-ass Cas back."
Dean groaned impatiently. Sam advanced towards them slowly bypassing Castiel, who appeared to be murmuring to the ceiling. The three men huddled together in complete shock; devastated that their old friend had given up everything for power.
"For fuck's sake, Bobby, what the Hell are we going to do? Cas' lost his marbles!" Dean croaked silently.
Bobby shook his head in defeat. "I'm not sure, Dean. Sam?" Sam's puppy-dog eyes were glistening and his face was pink with shame. He shook his head gently; as if to hide whatever angst that was bubbling inside of him. Bobby put a comforting arm around Sam and pressed the boy's head into his shoulder. Shooting Dean a pitiful glance, he gently helped Sam to sit on the cold, tile floor. Bobby slid down next to him and tried to comfort the boy with merciful actions: words; Dean knew, would do nothing.
And that's when the REAL war started.
A woman: a tall, African-American woman, in white on black pinstriped dress pants, a black, detailed blouse, and a high, shiny bun atop her head stood triumphantly at the top of the staircase. As Dean glanced upward at her, he noticed her body language, and the way she seemed to carry her confidence down the stairs. Several well-dressed men followed her. He right away knew she was either an Angel, or a Demon.
Sam and Bobby had also noticed this scene. Dean stepped backwards and sat on the ground next to them. Being as stubborn and hard-headed as he was, he decided to not interfere for once. The woman opened her pouty, highly-glossed lips and cooed, "Castiel. I suggest you stop this mayhem." Her voice was stiff, but the sound it resonated melted the room. She spoke with such fluency and sureness that even Dean couldn't help but be impressed by her smooth-talking. Castiel turned around almost at once, his richly pigmented blue eyes gleaming with strength. "So, Heaven has already been informed." He paused briefly; a smile dancing on his lips. The woman laughed, tossing her head back and clapping her delicate, long fingers together. She took long strides towards Castiel; her shiny, black, pointy heels clacking with every step. "Castiel, I'm not an angel. So you'd be wise to put those souls back." She had a light, playful tone in her voice, but her stunning face grew colder.
Castiel cocked his head and furrowed his dark brows together; stepping towards her, but the closer he got to this mysterious woman, the closer the men who followed her got to him. "So you're a demon." Cas said matter-of-factly. She laughed again, stepping backwards and turned her back to Castiel. "Oh, kind of. It depends how you look at it. Maybe I'll tell you once you put the souls back." Without warning, Castiel reached for the Archangel blade that he previously laid on the table and tossed it at the back of the woman's head with perfect accuracy. Dean glared evilly at Cas, and Bobby's jaw dropped atop Sam's head… who seemingly could no longer stand the sight of the ex-Angel. But, to their surprise, the woman laughed again: this time with a bitter tone. She reached around the back of her head and yanked the blade out effortlessly. She turned around and dropped it onto the ground, grinning. Castiel looked almost terrified.
"Who are you?" He demanded in his low, gruff voice.
"Jezebel." She simply stated. "I—was an Angel of the Lord. Until I was thrown into the Pit."
Cas demonstrated intent listening skills, but he didn't look convinced. His hands were curling into fists at his sides, his threatening eyes following Jezebel around the room. Four men circled Castiel, although Dean still didn't understand what they could do to stop him. After all, they were simply demons and he was; well, GOD. Jezebel circled the room – pondering almost – as if enjoying a nice, summer day at a park. She looked upwards and downwards, picking up items as she went, and dropping them on the ground after she was no longer amused with them. "It feels so good to be out." She told herself.
Then she spotted Dean, Sam and Bobby. Her brown-black eyes burned with a deep, well-concealed rage. She walked briskly towards them. Dean noticed that the closer she got, the taller she got, too. By the time she stood a foot from the three men, she appeared to be taller than Sam. "Thank you." She said to no one in particular. Sam and Bobby looked at each other and stood. Dean slowly did the same. Jezebel gazed at them with a flirty curiosity and then her eyes rested on Sam. She looked down at him as he kept his eyes down: she had to have been 6"7, at least. "Sam. What a pleasure." She lusted as she extended her hand to shake Sam's. "Who are you?" Sam growled, his voice nearly breaking.
She took several steps back, the wide leg of her pants flapping rhythmically. Then her eyes flickered black; like a demon's, then white-blue; like an angel's.
"Did you not hear what I JUST said?" She spat.
Castiel appeared behind her and curled an arm around her neck. "You're wasting my time, Demon. Now what do you want?" Her eyes had returned to normal and she appeared to have calmed down. "I want you to put the souls back." She glanced downwards with a smirk; lightly crinkling her beautiful features. Castiel clenched his jaw and all of a sudden Jezebel yelped in pain. Her knees buckled and she crumpled to the ground at Castiel's feet. He was about to place his palm on her forehead when an awful, glass-breaking screech sounded.
Dean covered his ears and squeezed his eyes shut, as did Sam and Bobby. I'm done with this. Dean thought. But when he opened his eyes, he saw that Castiel had disappeared and the demons looked very confused: but not Jezebel. She had her arms folded across her chest, and was seemingly very angry. "Lars." She said, sinisterly. It reminded Dean of when Castiel or Sam said his name when they were concerned or annoyed.
One of the men – a short and chubby vessel, actually – stumbled towards her. "Highness?" He stuttered. Dean couldn't take any of this confusion any longer.
"Get Sam out of here. He looks like he's going to pass out." Bobby glared at Dean forcefully.
"You insane, boy?" Bobby whispered back, noticeably frustrated. "She's an odd one, Dean. An Archangel blade went right through her damn skull and she lived. I ain't leavin' you with her."
Dean was about to protest when the room changed around him. He was in an abandoned house that was blackened and charred: from a fire, probably. He patted himself. "Damn, no weapons." He grunted. It was pouring rain and his leather jacket looked oil-slick; his jeans were damp and heavy on his legs. The rain poured heavily down into the house where there was a hole in the ceiling. Dean finally moved towards a patch of ceiling near a broken window for cover. He stood for a while there, gazing aimlessly out the window, wondering how he got here in the first place, and then he heard a familiar rhythm of clacking stilettos.
"Sorry, Dean. This was important." He heard a milky, sensual voice coo.