Holy sweet Cheez-Its, I'm finally back. I apologize for the severely long wait- a lot of things have happened to me since the first chapter was posted up. I went through my last days in high school, cried, and prepared myself for the onslaught of something called college. Then I got a new computer, lost my old backups, and I had to start chapters I had started anew. And on top of all that, family issues came along, so I never really got the chance to sit down and brainstorm my chapters again.
But here I am with the second chapter after...more than two years! Again, HUGE apologies...and I hope this chapter will make up for the time lost. Season 5 and 6 has ended with Season 7 stomping steadily along, but this story will still be based off of Season 5. So the Apocalypse is still nigh, Sammy still has his soul, and Castiel is still rather clueless (and curious) to pop culture references and some emotions. The only difference is that Bobby will not be confined to a wheelchair- but is free to riverdance.
Let's get started!
Warning: Season 5 spoilers (although it doesn't really matter now) and language.
Disclaimer: Usual stuff about how I don't own Supernatural and whatnot, but if I did, a certain trenchcoat wearing angel would be mine.
Chapter 02 - "Hope"
It had been a long time since he slept this well. And without his usual nightmare, too.
He opened his eyes slowly and found himself sitting in a chair surrounded by nothing but dark.
"What the hell-"
Guitar riffs suddenly rang out of nowhere and Dean furrowed his brow.
"Is that…AC/DC?" He looked around again, confused. "Wait, what?"
Now he was staring directly at a curtain covered stage in front of him.
"Wha-"
Picking up the sleaze in my car
His eyes widened as the lights dimmed around him and brightened on stage, the music pounding through invisible speakers- and the red satin curtains parted to reveal a woman wearing a large trenchcoat tied at the waist.
Before he could process what was going on, he watched as she whipped off the bothersome jacket, throwing it in his direction and stepped into the spotlight, now clad in skimpy red lingerie.
Hell no distance too far
Smiling at his surprised face, she began dancing seductively, her hips moving in perfect rhythm with the beat as her fingers wrapped around a pole that appeared behind her, sliding down slowly.
Burning down the road in the night
Don't you scold me or I'll bite
As if to emphasize the lyrics, she bit the tip of her finger as she spun around on the pole. He grinned widely.
These are the finer things in life
Don't think you live in paradise
"Now this," he murmured, leaning back on the chair comfortably as she continued her dance, his eyes roaming freely down her figure, "is what I'm talking about."
I've got my filly wrapped in red
She moved towards him, her tongue running over her bottom lip as she stroked his cheek gently, her eyes moving from his down to his mouth. She leaned in, as if to kiss him-
And stepped back, pressing her finger softly on his lips as she turned on her heel and strutted back to the pole, her hips swaying hypnotically.
Upon my double decker bed
If you want it come and get it (come and get it)
She crooked her finger at him, beckoning to him.
He smirked.
If you want it come and get it (come and get it)
If you want it come and get it (come and get it)
If you want it come and get it
The music stopped and the girl disappeared.
He sat up and looked around, a bewildered look on his face.
"Dean." Dean nearly jumped into the ceiling at the sound of his name and gritted his teeth in frustration as he slowly turned to face a certain trench coat wearing angelic figure.
"Cas," he said through his teeth. "What do you want and what the hell are you doing in my dream? Better yet- HOW the hell did you know where we are would be the better question because I do not remember calling you."
"I do not need to know where you are to appear in your dream."
Castiel tilted his head as he surveyed Dean's response to his answer. He seemed to look like he was in pain, but as far as he could tell, there were no visible wounds on his body. "Dean, are you alright?"
Am I okay- no Cas, you just stopped me from having one of the best dreams I've had in a long time, Dean thought as he rubbed his temples. "I'm fine, Cas. Now will you please tell me what you want?"
"There is a situation," Cas replied as he began looking around his surroundings and touched the velvet wall curiously.
"What is it- demons gone wild?"
"No."
"Killer teddy bears?"
"No."
"Archangels?"
"No."
"Rogue angels?" Dean noticed Cas visibly stiffen and quickly said, "Sorry."
"...No."
"Then what is it?"
"People are killing each other in bloody carnage in Wichita, Oklahoma."
"Okay. And what do you think it is?"
Cas glanced over at him.
"A horseman. A lesser one."
"Lesser one to what?"
"War. We're dealing with Rage."
"Rage?"
"Yes."
Dean shook his head. "Wait a second, you mean to tell me that we're dealing with a lackey."
"A horseman."
"A lesser one. So what's lesser than that? A pony? We're dealing with a ponyman?"
"I'm serious, Dean!" Castiel stepped closer. "WE HAVE TO STOP HIM," he said in a low thundering voice.
"All right, all right," Dean muttered as he stepped back a little. "Calm down." He ran a hand over his face and sighed heavily.
It was time to work.
Just when we were getting to the good stuff, Dean thought, his mind lingering back to the beginning of his dream.
"So…." Dean looked up from his seat at the angel before him. "We'll meet you there, I guess?"
"No," Castiel handed over a slip of paper that Dean skimmed over quickly. "Meet me here."
He glanced around at his surroundings and then focused on Dean again.
"Hurry."
Immediately, Dean woke with a start.
"No," Castiel handed a piece of paper to him. "Meet me here." Dean skimmed it over quickly, reading 'Bobby's'.
He glanced around one more time and focused on Dean.
"Hurry."
"Sammy," Dean whispered as he threw off the covers and grabbed his pillow. "Sammy!" he spoke loudly.
"M-muh?" Sam groggily mumbled in his sleep, opening his eyes enough to see a pillow slam into his face. "OW!" He immediately sat up and yanked the pillow off his face. "What the hell, Dean?!"
"Wake up, Sammy- we gotta go to Bobby's." Dean replied as he quickly ducked from a flying pillow into the bathroom.
"B-Bobby's?" Sam managed through a yawn as Dean came back out and tossed a few items into their bags. "Why?"
"Because Cas is meeting us there." Sam's eyes widened at the mentioning of the renegade angel.
"Wha- Cas? Dean, what's going on?"
"I'll explain later. Hurry up- we're leaving in 10 minutes." Sam nodded and hastily pushed away the blankets.
Dean pounded at the door. "Bobby," he called.
"Is he even home?" Sam asked as they waited impatiently.
"Cas wouldn't tell us to come here if he knew Bobby wasn't home, genius."
"Then why the hell is he taking so long to get to the door?"
"Like I would know!" Dean paced back and forth and faced the back door again. "Screw it," he growled and stepped back.
"Wait Dean, what are you-"
A resounding smash came from the door as Dean kicked it open.
Sam sighed and gave Dean a look. "Seriously?"
"Shut up," Dean grumbled and walked inside. "Bobby!"
"I guess…he's not home," Sam said as they walked through the hall.
"Or he's not paying attention," Dean retorted and walked over to the basement door. "Bobby!"
"Did you call?" Sam asked as they turned into the library.
"Yeah, but he wasn't picking up."
"Well there's his beer. He must be around here somewhere." Sam glanced around and pointed at the sliding doors leading to the kitchen. "Kitchen, maybe?"
The two had hardly opened the doors when a knife suddenly whizzed past Dean's ear. The two brothers dove to opposite sides of the floor.
Dean peeked out again.
"SHIT!" Dean yelled as he moved back quickly as two more knives flew past him. "Bobby, it's us!"
The flying knives stopped.
Both Winchesters looked over at each other and slowly peeked inside the kitchen as they got up. Seeing nothing, the two walked in.
"…Bobby?" Sam asked hesitantly as they looked around.
"You IDJITS!" Bobby growled from behind them. The two spun around to see the veteran hunter- and struggled not to laugh at the strange choice of attire he was wearing. He glared at the brothers. "What the hell are you laughing about?"
"What's, uh, with the apron, Bobby?" Dean smirked as Sam looked around to avoid laughing out loud.
Bobby looked down at himself, seeing the frilly pink apron he still had tied around his waist. He narrowed his eyes at the sniggering Winchesters and ripped off the offending item, flinging it into a chair as he stomped his way past them, muttering something about "the idjit brothers" under his breath.
"What are you boys doin' here, anyway?" Bobby asked as he grabbed a couple potholders and opened the oven door.
"We're here because of…" Sam's voice trailed off as the brothers exchanged glances, staring at the hunter hunched over the oven. Dean suddenly grabbed his brother's arm. "Ow, what?"
"Do I smell pie?" Dean whispered, eyes wide.
"What?" Sam stared at him. "Are your pie senses tingling or something?" Sam asked incredulously as Dean looked around, sniffing.
"Shut up," Dean hissed.
"Hello? You're here because of WHAT?" Bobby asked again as he turned to look at the brothers.
"Cas. We're here because of Cas," Sam finished.
"Oh." Bobby's voice echoed as he reached into the oven and pulled something out. "Well…I knew you weren't here for my pie."
"Excuse me?" Dean spoke slowly. "Did you…just say..." He shook his head and moved closer. "You made pie?"
Sam poked at his slice of apple pie on his plate with his fork. He wasn't hungry- not that the pie wasn't good. Honestly, he was surprised at how well Bobby could make pie- probably because his late wife, Karen, had shown him how to make it. It wasn't as good as she had made it, but…well, it tasted pretty decent.
The only thing on his mind was the case that Dean had filled him in on during their car ride to Bobby's. That and what Castiel needed to tell them here that he couldn't say while in Dean's dream.
Speaking of the rebel angel, Cas appeared not too long after the boys sat down with their individual slices of pie. He took one of the pastries for himself, and was sitting at the table, savoring it with both delight and curiosity etched on his face in trying something that Dean had always been talking about.
Sam glanced over at his older brother and stared.
Saying that Dean loved pie…was an understatement. A huge understatement. It'd be like telling someone that Dean only liked Metallica and all sorts of 'mullet rock', as Sam called it.
The second the man got his pie slice, he set about his task of jamming it down his throat. And then another slice. And then another.
At this point, Dean looked more like he was inhaling the pie rather than eating it.
"Are you intending to eat yourself to the next year? Or the next century?" Sam asked with a raised eyebrow.
Dean narrowed his eyes and replied with something along the lines of "Mmmph mmph," and swallowed. "Shut up, Sammy." He eyed Sam's plate and pointed to it. "You gonna finish that?"
Sam sighed, shook his head, and pushed the plate across the table. Dean grinned and snatched the pie slice, digging into it like a madman and finishing it within seconds. He leaned back and patted his stomach with a satisfied smile.
"Hey Cas." The angel looked over at Sam.
"Yes, Sam Winchester?"
"So…we're dealing with a horseman?"
"A lesser horseman, yes."
"What's the difference anyway?" Dean asked. "I mean between one of the five Horsemen of the Apocalypse and a so-called 'lesser' Horseman like Rage."
"Lesser horsemen are parts of the horsemen. They do coexist with humans, but usually only have enough power to strike once in a while. Since Lucifer's trying to bring the Horsemen to the surface, he's changing that."
"And giving them enough juice to wreak havoc wherever they go," Sam finished and the angel nodded.
"Yes. With that amount of power, they have the ability to do things close to their creator. Rage, at his usual power, could only cause some disorder amongst humanity."
"Which horseman does Rage belong to?"
"War," Castiel replied, his brow furrowed as he looked down at his pie slice, poking at the crust with his fork.
"What kind of damage has he done in Wichita so far?" Bobby asked, looking slightly amused at Castiel's interest in the pastry.
"Rage has people at each other's throats. They're tearing each other apart," he answered, picking up an apple piece and biting into it carefully.
"So he's manipulating them into violence? How long does it take for it to start?"
"I do not know. But it's moving at a rapid pace and like a disease- sooner or later, Rage will become tired and move onto the next state he deems worthy. You must hurry."
"Right." Dean looked over at his younger brother. "We'll start heading down to Wichita." The two began to stand up.
"Wait," Bobby stopped them. "I have someone you should go to find out the current situation around town." He walked over to the desk and scribbled down something on paper, handing it to the brothers.
"Gregory Miller? Who's he?"
"Greg Miller is a good friend of mine. He's a hunter, his wife's a hunter- your dad and I both worked with them and take it from me- these people are people you want on your side. They have one hell of a network- they know anything and everything that goes on in their vicinity- which means you'll have a field day if you work with them. When you meet Greg, tell him that Bobby Singer sent you."
"We'll keep you posted, Bobby." Dean looked over at the angel still poking at another apple slice. "Cas? You coming or are you hoping that pie will talk to you?"
"Inanimate objects do not talk, Dean," Castiel replied firmly as he broke off a piece of the crust, scrutinizing it. "I will join you later."
"Right then." Sam picked up his jacket. "We'll see you later."
Bobby nodded and clapped a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Be careful, boys."
"Well this seems to be the place," Sam said as the two brothers looked out at a car garage, a sign hanging overhead that said "Miller".
"Seems to be." Dean ground the engine to a halt and popped out the key. "Let's see if anyone's home."
The brothers walked up to the open doorway of the garage and glanced around.
Cars, both vintage and recent, were lined up- some raised up onto platforms, some with their hoods up, and some with limbs missing.
"Wow," Sam murmured as he examined one car.
"Dude, what the hell? It's bigger on the inside!"
"Huge, actually. And look at the cars they have. They must be repairing 24/7," Sam replied as he examined one car's interior with his brother.
"Can I help you boys?" A voice rang out. The two looked up and found a middle-aged man smiling at them.
"Oh! Uh, yeah- I'm Sam Winchester and this is my brother, Dean. We're looking for Gregory Miller?"
"Well, you got him. Do you need anything?" he glanced behind them and gestured to the Impala, "Tune up?"
"No, uh...Bobby Singer sent us," Dean said.
"Oh! Well then," he pointed behind him at a door, "Come this way." He turned and began walking away.
Dean glanced over at Sam as if to ask, Should we?
Like we have a choice, Sam shrugged and the two quickly went after him.
Gregory opened the door and gestured to the two. "After you."
The brothers stepped through into the dim back room, with Gregory right behind as he locked the door, glancing down to ensure that the salt line wasn't disturbed, and switched on the lights.
"Greg." A tall blonde woman stood in front of the brothers with a bucket on her hip. Without another word, she threw the contents at the boys.
"HEY!" Sam choked out as they were hit with a wave of holy water and felt Gregory grab his arm, yanking it out, followed by a sharp, biting pain. Wiping his eyes hurriedly, he saw the man wielding a dagger and doing the same to Dean, a single cut across his forearm.
Dean snatched his arm back with an angry growl. "What the hell, man!"
Gregory held out the dagger by the blade. "Silver dagger." He pulled up his sleeve and pressed the edge to his arm, hissing slightly as it drew blood. The woman walked over and did the same.
"Now that we're all safe and sound," Gregory began, sheathing the dagger and pulling down his sleeve slowly. "I'm Greg, and this is my wife, Cecilia."
"Pleasure, boys," the blonde said with a smile and shook hands with the still stunned brothers. "Towels?"
"Uh, that'd be great, thanks," Sam answered, nodding slightly. Greg murmured an assent and she walked off around a corner.
"So...Sam and Dean Winchester, huh?" Greg asked, turning to walk towards a mini fridge sitting next to a workbench. The fridge door opened and glass clinked. "I haven't heard that last name for a while." He closed the fridge and turned back around, offering two cold beer bottles in one hand. "You wouldn't happen to be related to a John Winchester, would you?"
"Yes sir." The two brothers took a bottle each.
"John Winchester," the middle aged man sighed and popped open another beer, tipping it back and taking a swig. "That man was the best partner I could ask for. Told me he had two boys, too." He shook his head solemnly. "Shame he's on the other side." He lifted his bottle. "To your dad. Man was one hell of a force to be reckoned with.
The brothers popped open their beers and silently lifted them in a toast, and drank. What hit their taste buds next was absolutely repulsive and it showed on their faces.
"Mother-" Dean choked as he spat out his mouthful, Sam coughing heavily beside him. "What the hell is in that thing?!" he croaked as he felt his nose burn from the liquid.
"Well, now we're sure that they're not demons," Cecilia's voice chimed in, walking in with two small towels in her hands. She tossed one to each brother.
"Holy water beer laced with salt," Gregory answered and walked over to pat the two brothers on the shoulder. "Sorry boys. Had to be positive."
"Ugh," Dean groaned, pulling himself back up from his hunched position, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "That was fucking disgusting," he grumbled to Sam.
"Beer?" Gregory asked, popping open the fridge again.
"Pass."
"Sure?" He shrugged. "Your loss."
"Bobby's been in contact with you?" Sam asked as the three walked slowly. The back room was attached to a warehouse filled with car parts lining shelves and was a decent enough size to have a few cars here and there, all under repair. There were large toolboxes on workbenches and lanterns hung up under some cars lifted up in the air. About half of the warehouse was sectioned off for the family's usage with a kitchen, dining table, a bathroom, and two bedrooms- all part of a little impromptu tour the patriarch was giving to the Winchester boys.
"Yeah. Ever since this started happening around town, we've been trying to get more information about what exactly we're dealing with. It's not like anything we've ever seen- and considering how fast this has been spreading, there's only a matter of time before it hitches a ride out of Wichita." Gregory answered, pausing to lean against the doorframe as he faced the brothers. "And this is where I assume that you have an idea since Bobby sent you to me. So..." he gestured to them.
"It's going to sound pretty insane. Even to a hunter like yourself."
Gregory chuckled. "I don't think you can surprise me, son. I mean, Lucifer, and all that we've been through."
"Well...we're facing a lesser horseman. Rage, to be exact."
The older man stared silently at Sam. "I stand corrected," he spoke after a while and got off the doorframe, rubbing his forehead. "When you say 'horseman', I assume the ones from the Bible pertaining to the Apocalypse?"
"Yes sir."
"Well...shit." He sighed and shook his head. "What do you mean by 'lesser'?"
"They're the ones that are parts of the Horsemen. They usually only have enough power to strike once in a while, but with Lucifer mucking up the place, they're getting enough juice to be able to screw around a lot more."
"And the one we have in our town?"
"It's Rage. He's part of War."
Gregory cursed under his breath. "Damn. What can we do to get rid of it? How do we do it?"
"To be honest...we're not sure yet," Sam admitted. "We need to figure that one out. So Bobby sent us to you."
"Well, we don't know either. At least, now it somewhat makes sense now that you've explained it." They walked back out to the warehouse, with Gregory closing the door behind them.
"What does?"
"The fights, the riots- the violent killings. It's like everyone turned into savages. People tore each other apart even if they looked at each other wrong." The patriarch led the brothers towards a row of cars.
"When did it start?"
"Uh..." Gregory paused in thought. "I'd say around a week ago after we got back from a case. Killed a Pagan god."
"Pagan god? Interesting."
"I'm sure he found her even more interesting." They turned to see Cecilia walking past with a dishcloth in her hands, a glare directed at her husband.
"Still mad, dear?" He placed an arm around her shoulder. She shrugged it off and jabbed her husband with an elbow. Gregory bent over, wincing.
"Very much so." She gave a sweet smile towards the brothers. "Are you boys staying for dinner? I make a mean mac'n'cheese casserole. Fill you up before you head out?"
Sam glanced over at Dean and nodded. "Yeah, sure. That'd be great, actually."
"Not like we have anywhere else to be at the moment."
"Great. I'll get dinner started, then." She began moving towards the kitchen and called, "Oh and Greg, check on Riley for me. She's been at work for a while."
"Sure," Gregory replied and gestured at the brothers. "Come on. I'll introduce you to my other two girls."
"Ah, there's my baby," Greg said as he stepped towards the black car. He ran his hand lightly over the hood.
"Wow. A Chevy Caprice?"
"1971," he said proudly and patted the roof.
"Hey Dad," a voice rang out from under the car and a young woman dressed in jeans and a tank top rolled out on a creeper. "I think we-" she looked up, "Oh, we have company."
"And this is my daughter. Honey, these are the Winchester boys."
"Winchester? As in John Winchester?" She pulled herself up, tugging one of her gloves off and plucking headphone buds out. She blew a loose strand of dark brown hair away from her eyes and extended her hand. "Name's Riley. Nice to finally meet you boys."
"Sam. This is my brother Dean."
"Need something, hon?" Gregory asked.
"Oh right. I think we're going to need a new axle. The old one's start to bend a bit."
"Ah, damn," he clicked his tongue and laid his hand on the hood of the car. "Poor baby- having to haul our heavy asses to and fro every day. You need some good TLC." He sighed. "You can get the extra axels from the back."
"Got it," Riley pulled off the other glove and tucked them halfway into her pocket, turning to look over at the brothers again. "Are you boys staying for dinner?"
"Yeah."
Riley grinned. "Great. Mom's making her famous casserole then?" Her father nodded. "Fantastic. See you later then." She walked off.
"Will she need any help?" Sam asked as they watched her turn into the back corner.
"Well, you're free to ask, but...I doubt it."
"Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Miller. The casserole was delicious," Sam said as they walked to the exterior of the garage.
"Please, Sam. It's Cecilia to you and your brother. And anytime. It's nice to have company. I'm sorry we don't have room for you to stay at our place, though."
"There's a motel you boys can crash at in town. Called the Chesapeake Inn. Oh and uh, boys. Riley will be leaving with you. Her mother and I have some unfinished business we'd like to get done, so we'll catch up later. That all right with you two?"
"Yeah, sure," Dean replied.
"I'd say 'take care of her', but I know my daughter can take care of herself. But watch her back. She's one hell of a spitfire, but she can get pretty reckless once her adrenaline starts pumpin'."
"Yes sir." They shook hands.
Riley came around the corner, a black duffel bag slung casually over her shoulder as she slipped past the last few cars in the garage.
Sam nudged Dean, nodding slightly in Riley's direction. Dean cleared his throat. "Uh, we'll be waiting at the car." The two turned and began walking towards the Impala.
"Hey," Riley said with a smile to her parents.
"Ready, kiddo?"
"Pretty much. Are you and Mom coming along?"
"We'll catch up soon, Ril- we've got some stuff to finish up. We'll call if anything comes up on the line."
"Right." She placed the bag on the ground, extending her arms out. "I'll see you soon then, dad."
"You got it." The Miller patriarch's gruff demeanor softened as he hugged his daughter and kissed her forehead with a proud, "Kick it in the ass."
"See you, Mom." Riley hugged her mother with a small grin.
Cecilia smiled and removed her necklace, placing it into Riley's hand. "Keep it close."
"I will," Riley replied as she picked up her duffel again and walked over to the Impala.
"Did anything come up in the last lead?" Cecilia murmured as the car rumbled to life.
"Yeah." His eyes hardened as he thought and threw his arm around his wife, gently squeezing her shoulder. "We're getting close."
She nodded silently, staring out into the starless sky.
"Rooms 24 and 25," Dean spoke as he sauntered out of the office and tossed a key to Riley. "You gonna be alright on your own?"
Riley let out a small laugh. "I'm 25, Dean. I can take care of myself." She pulled her duffel bag onto the crook of her elbow and began walking.
The group stopped at Room 24. "Right then. We'll let you get settled and see you in 10?"
"Yeah," she replied, unlocking her door and stepping inside. "See you in a few."
The young woman sighed as she flipped the lights on and tossed her bag onto the bed, pushing the door closed behind her.
I guess I should go take a shower, Riley thought as she walked over to the bed, pulling her jacket off. She stuck her hand into a pocket, pulling out her mother's necklace. The long silver chain wound around her fingers as she lifted the pendant- a small silver charm shaped like a drawstring bag with wings adorning the sides. It was a special heirloom of the family- brought down generation to generation. And considering how her mother had given it to her for safekeeping- it meant that her mother knew how much Riley would need it herself.
She had just noticed it glowing when she heard a voice behind her.
"You must be from the Miller family."
Riley yanked out a gun from the bag and spun around to see a rumpled angel standing there.
Castiel stared at her down the barrel of her gun. "Hello."
"Who the hell are you? How did you get here?" She clicked off the safety and held herself steady. "Answer me!"
Castiel sighed. "That will not hurt me. I am an angel."-
"Don't lie to me. Angels don't exist," she scoffed and glared. "Tell me right now, or so help me god, I will shoot you right now."
The door opened. "Whoa WHOA!" Dean strode in quickly, Sam right behind him. "Riley, put the gun down. That's Castiel- he's with us."
"He says he's an angel." She kept her eyes on Castiel and didn't lower her gun. "Angels don't exist."
"They do, Riley," Sam jumped in and looked over at the angel. "Cas, do something!"
"What-" The lights began to flash and spark as shadows of two wings unfurling appeared behind Castiel.
Her eyes widened and she backed away, her legs catching on the edge of the bed, her gun arm wavering.
"You're..." She finally spoke, still staring at Castiel with a mix of hesitation and disbelief. "You're really an angel?"
"Yes." Riley licked her lips, her throat feeling very dry. She lowered her gun slowly and put the safety back on, placing the gun on top of her bag. Dean and Sam watched her anxiously as she sat there, silently in thought.
"...Guys," she ran a hand over her face. "Can I please have a moment alone with Castiel?"
The two brothers glanced at each other and nodded.
"We'll be right outside if you need us," Dean said and the two went outside.
Riley examined her hands, unsure how to begin. She was having one hell of a war with her own conscience at the moment. She had never heard of angels actually existing, but after seeing those wings...she wasn't even sure what to assume anymore. But if Castiel was what he said he was, then...what did she have to lose?
"Castiel," Riley began quietly. "If you're really an angel...can you please tell me something?"
"I will do my best."
She took a deep breath. "Are my siblings-"
"Yes."
The young Miller looked up sharply at his reply. "Are they really?"
"As far as I know."
Silence filled the air again. Castiel stood there awkwardly, his gaze on her.
"That's..." she whispered, "That's such a relief..." Riley started to laugh, her lips spread into the widest smile as she beamed at the angel. He stared as she stood up again and patted him on the shoulder. "Thank you. I can't-" She let out the breath she had been holding, a little of the weight on her heart lifting, the clouds in her mind parting.
A glimmer of promise.
Her fingers lightly squeezed his shoulder. "Thank you," Riley repeated and turned away, striding to the door to open it.
"Hey Riley-"
"I'm fine." She glanced back at Castiel. "I, um...actually feel a bit tired. Do you mind if I talk to you guys in the morning?"
"Yeah sure. C'mon, Cas- we need to talk." She stood back as the angel walked past her. "Good night."
"Night," Riley replied and let the door close, letting her back press against it.
It had been a while since she had heard good news.
And so ends the second chapter! Obviously tons of sprinkles about what's going to be going on for the next few chapters as well as a little overview on Riley and her family. I'm going to start working on the third chapter after finals (which are next week- yikes) and hopefully have it out for you soon enough! And since I've actually been able to write out a decent outline on the entire story, I should be able to complete things in a more orderly fashion. Thanks for being so patient with me!
Until then,
/strophic