So I am about half way through the ideas I have for this story but it is subject to change via feedback.
Another town, another hunt, another diner. Over and over the cycle continued. Luckily, you'd managed to stay in one piece through these jobs. However, that meant no more mysterious run-ins with your guardian angel, as you thought of him. Not that you were itching for stitches or a cast but a little part of you that you pointedly ignored missed Castiel more that you realized.
But you had work to do and that was enough to occupy your mind. Things had definitely picked up recently; specifically demonic activity. Three years ago demons were pretty rare but recently you had become much more efficiently in your methods, not by choice.
Having just finished a smattering of possessions by a demon with a blonde fetish, you were hiding in the back of a little breakfast joint, drinking strong high-test and pushing soaked pancakes around your plate. Your nose was buried in a book you had swiped from the hide-out of the monster; tucked inside a People magazine of course.
The bell tinkled and instinct pulled your head up, expecting to see an old farmer or Grandma Mabel here to meet the Euchre ladies. Swearing softly under your breath, you slowly but firmly pulled her cap lower and your book higher to conceal your face. Shifting, you pressed your thigh to the wall just to make sure your pistol was in place.
Sam and Dean Winchester had just strolled into the diner. You had run into them once, a few years ago. Cleaning out a vamp nest had attracted more blades… and fangs than you'd bargained for. Sam, Dean and another hunter named Mark had shown up. The fight had been heavy and lasted longer than it should have but in the end you were all bloody and Mark had gotten stabbed. He bled out before any of you had been able to find him. The three of you had taken care of the body but you had been the one that had bothered to track his mom down and let her know what had happened, sort of. Her face, crumpled and red, was still seared into your memory.
The whole experience had left a bad taste in your mouth when it came to the Winchesters. Besides, if half the rumors going round about these boys were true, you wanted even less to do with them. Fortunately, they parked in the booth furthest from you. Not missing a beat, you quietly left cash and slipped through the door. Tossing the book into the passenger seat and quickly taking leave, you heaved a sigh of relief.
"Ah… Ah… dammit," you laid still on the cold stone, heaving in a deep breath. What the hell was that thing? Silver, iron, salt… nothing fazed it. It just kept coming, so fast. And then… you'd seen some stuff but you'd never seen something with that many teeth…
Pressing your hand over the jagged flesh of your thigh, you pressed into the wall so that you could stand up. As you jerked your head back, the warm trickle down the left side of your face told you that there was a gash somewhere in your hair line. And you were fairly sure you'd fractured your left wrist. Still, you could hear that thing up the elevator shaft and you knew that you had to put some distance between it and you.
You found a door and flung it open, cold night air pouring through, causing your breath to catch. An annoying, drizzly rain misted around you, heavy clouds blocked up the light from the stars above. Pain started to slam into you like a drum and the limp grew more profound as you struggled through the alleyway. Then the door slammed behind you and your stomach was in your mouth. How was it that fast?
Pouring on what little speed you had left, you felt warm blood course down your leg as you tried to get away. But the calm measured footsteps of that thing that looked so human were closing in. And then your foot caught on some piece of doomed garbage and you fell. Scrabbling and twisting, you pawed for your knife. The figure hunting you was passing between shadows and dim shafts of light from the street lamps. He was smiling.
It was a few seconds before you remembered that your knife was on the fourth floor of the building you were looking at. But your gun was still strapped to your back. Closing your hand around it, you whipped it around and fired.
BANG. BANG.
And still the creature kept coming, barely flinching back each time the bullet hit flesh.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
A few feet away now, his face, still fractured by that disgusting smile, started to peel back and row after row of needle sharp teeth appeared. Swallowing hard, you clenched your eyes shut and pulled your gun back, feeling the cold metal press into the side of your temple. You were realistic enough to know that hunter don't live long lives but you were not about to before monster chow… or worse if you could help it.
Suddenly you heard a soft flutter and the cold, grating asphalt beneath you became coarse yet yielding blankets. And that familiar warmth that you hadn't felt for years pulsed through your ravaged body. Flesh and bone knit together and your thigh stopped throbbing, your wrist stopped aching and the crackling on you cheek told you that the dried blood was drifting off.
Blinking hard a couple times, that stern face with those crackling, blue fire eyes appeared just inches from your face. Glancing down, you saw that familiar tan trench coat but where the loose fitting tie should have been there was only a simple white cotton shirt that matched the pants.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, in the same gritty voice yet there was a lilty swish behind it that told you something was different.
"Better," you said, smiling. You hadn't seen Castiel in years, not since that motel in Arkansas. To be fair, you hadn't been in a bad scrape since that night. Having fallen in a with a group for a few years, your six had been fairly well covered. But hunters had been dropping quick and fast recently and you'd dropped off on your own again, after Tammy.
Man, had that been a mistake. That thing had popped up pretty quickly and stuck hard on your trail. And you still had no clue what it was.
You smiled again as you finished sitting up. Castiel was seated on the edge of the bed, looking serenely peaceful. He smiled back, a small awkward gesture. There was something different, something a little off about him that you couldn't quite put your finger on. Still, it was nice to see him. A small part of you was sad because that familiar knot of excitement that always accompanied his visits wasn't there. Maybe too much time… or blood had passed. Maybe it was the change in him that you noticed. Maybe it was the your own cynicism stealing away younger dreams. Either way, it caused you to furrow your brows.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"No… nothing," you murmured, not sure you wanted to launch into all of that. But still he looked at you quizzically, for so long that eventually it was you that broke the gaze.
"You can see it," and he gestured toward himself like there was a sign somewhere explaining the changes you did see.
"Well, you look great," there was the familiar flush and you knew your cheeks were reddening.
"Thank you. I think I look to thin but I guess this is just me now. Jimmy has not been here for a very long time," he stated like he was reciting directions.
"Castiel, who's Jimmy?" you paused him, catching the weird phrase. It was enough to set you on edge. For a long pause, you both sat there equally confused but for very different reasons before his face soften and he sighed, like he had remembered something very important.
"Oh, right. I never told you I was an angel."
After the initial shock, wild attempt escape and broken furniture you finally calmed down long enough for Castiel to explain… and show you that he wasn't crazy. Then followed several hours of conversation; well, mostly question and answer. Several times the conversation had left you feeling like a house had been dropped on you; so much of what you understood and believed took a major shift.
Castiel filled you in on what he had been up to the last few years. You know- nothing too extreme; just rebelling against heaven to stop the Apocalypse. Then working with the King of Hell to find and imbibe purgatory in order to trump the archangel Raphael in a civil war. But that apparently went south, along with Sam's mind. Which brought them to now. Leviathans, recently sprung from purgatory, were currently running shot over pretty much everything. And Cas- he had broken the wall in Sam Winchester's mind that had been holding back the hell-driven madness. And, after some real show stoppers, when Cas figured out that he couldn't put the wall back he had taken Sam's madness upon himself.
That was who sat on this weary little mattress with you. A twice restored angel who'd fallen from a pedestal grappling with the kind of insanity that only an archangel could inflict. Processing all the facts and dates and names had taken some time and you sat, breathing deeply like you'd been plunged into icy water. But when everything was finally filed and stored, and a fifth of whiskey that had magically appeared was empty, one thought struck you. "You came for me," you whispered, a thick catch in your throat.
"You… you… all this… with everything going on… and you came for me." Castiel smiled.
"I will always come for you. You are important," he smiled and suddenly that little bundle of energy pushed against the bottom of your ribs and before you could stop yourself, you flung your arms up and around his neck, pushing your face into the soapy, woody smell of his jacket. After a moment or two, large warm hands pressed into your back and you felt safer, calmer than you had in a very long time.