The Bond

Summary:

Iris Watson is something of a rare breed when it comes to the human species. For all purpose, she is perfectly average. She enjoys the little things in life, has hobbies in photography and music. She comes from a middle class family, with familial issues all too normal. There is but one thing that sets her apart from other people.

Something even she isn't aware of until the form of a battered man in a tarnished trench coat passes out on her front porch.

Being pulled into a world filled with supernatural creatures had been the last thing Iris ever thought would happen.

Though, Fate itself is a fickle thing.

Author's Note:

Yet another beginning to another plot bunny running through my head that I just need to get out. Please, leave a review. This is a work in progress, and I'm not particularly sure how it will play out yet. Each chapter title is associated with a type of bond people share with each other. Something that connects them in a way. In this story, every character, no matter how minimal, shares a certain level of a bond. This will be a slow building Cas/OC fic, as I want to focus on the way many people grow comfortable and familiar with each other. Let me know what you all think.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, but Iris and any OC's you might see are of my own creation. I will most likely take requests in supernatural creatures that will be used in future chapters and confronted by team Free Will (Winchesters and Cas). Requests before the chapter is written will be foot-noted at the end of the prior chapter, so I encourage your ideas.

Thanks again!

Chapter Two
Sympathetic Understanding

Yawning as he finally exits the guest room, Dean Winchester finds himself admitting to having a comfortable night of sleep. Granted, he is used to sleeping in his car, or on a cheap mattress. Running a hand through his bed-ravished hair, he wonders mildly to himself why this Iris Watson seemed so uncomfortable in this house. Finding himself on the first level of the house, Dean slips silently into the kitchen and pauses at the sight before him.

The petite, raven-haired woman that saved Castiel's life sat at the counter-top island. Her mass of thick curls were twisted together and pulled up, held off of the back of her neck by a single pencil. Her nimble fingers taps fluently along the keys of her laptop, dark green eyes shifting across the screen. Inspecting her features, Dean wonders what happened. Why did she receive an Enochian sigil branded against her chest? Did Castiel do it intentionally? If so, why? She didn't appear to be anyone out of the ordinary. Her features were naturally soft pale, rounded cheekbones carving her stern features with a permanently softened appearance. A small amount of freckles dusted along the bridge of her nose, some of them brushing along the tops of her cheekbones. She bore a petite build, everything about her small and compact.

Pausing a few feet behind her, he respects her fierce focus on whatever it is she is doing. Looking over her shoulder, to catch a glimpse of what was one the screen, Dean's brows narrow at the sight of an older man, dressed in what appears to be leather. The man, his hair cropped at a medium length and a wheat-blonde color, gripped a guitar in his hands, his lips barely centimeters away from a microphone. Dean knew this man. He had seen a or two picture similar to this one before.

"Is that James Hetfield?"

amusement flashes through Dean as his words causes the woman to let out a strangled yelp, her seated form jumping at least a foot off of the stool. Green eyes whirled around to meet his own light moss-green, irritation shifting into relief. A quick glance at the computer monitor, Iris meets his gaze again and nods, giving him a soft smile.

"Y-yes. It's from Metallica's recent show in Atlantic City, New Jersey," Iris replies and Dean leans over her shoulder more to get a closer look.

"You took these yourself?" he asks, curious as she begins to shift through various photographs of different Rock musicians. "Because these are really good."

A faint blush stains her cheeks, "Um, yeah. I work as a freelance photographer for Rolling Stone Magazine," Dean feels his eyes widen at her career, "I've been interested in photography since...I was a kid. My grandfather was always taking pictures of everyone, and everything, he could. When he died, he left me his camera and I've been...doing it ever since."

"It's a really good shot," Dean compliments. "So, do you have any coffee?"

A small offended snort leaves Iris as she points to the coffee pot, "Never leave home without at least two cups in me."

Dean nods in agreement as he moves around the island to pour himself a mug of coffee. Turning around, he leans against the counter and watches as the young woman resumes doing whatever it is she had been doing before he interrupted her. After a few minutes, she shut the screen of her laptop and brings her own coffee mug to her lips.

"So," she starts, licking the caffeinated beverage off of her lips, "Can I ask you a question? One that hopefully you'll give the truth about," Dean pauses in his thought before nodding hesitantly, "Your friend. He's..." She seems to search for the right wording, "not normal, is he?"

"What do you mean?" Dean asks, dreading the thought of having to explain everything.

"Look, I'm not stupid, by any means, but ever since he's been here, I've been sick or in pain every time I leave the house. This morning, I could barely make it to the end of my driveway to get the newspaper. I'm not exactly a fan of being kept in the dark, so please?" she answers, her eyes just as pleading as her voice.

Dean sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, "He's...well...Cas is an angel."

Iris blinks, dumbfounded and possibly shocked, "You mean..." She timidly points upward, "angel, as in messenger of God?" Dean nods curtly, watching as her eyes shift to relief, "Oh, well, at least he isn't a serial killer. How does an angel end up unconscious at my front door, as if he's been through the grinder?"

"He somehow got out of Purgatory," Iris tilts her head as a somber gleam shines across Dean's eyes, "I tried to get him out, save him from his personal Hell, like he did for me."

"I'm guessing the two of you had some 'falling out' before he was sent there?"

Dean nods, the guilt still gnawing at him, "Yeah. I might have taken advantage of him a lot before he went dark side on us, and when I tried to help, he was too far gone," Looking up, Dean sees her gaze trained on the coffee mug resting between her fingers, "I sometimes wonder if I could have stopped Cas from getting in too deep if I had just...tried to help before he went too far."

Hearing Iris snort, Dean snaps a glare at her, to which she raises her hands defensively, "Sorry," she says simply, eyes soft, yet unreadable, "I don't mean offense, it's just...'what if' scenarios are useless."

"What makes you say that?"

His anger seems to make her uncomfortable as she shifts in her seat, turning her gaze down to her coffee, "I have a feeling, that you had a nobel reason for being unable to help your friend at the time that he needed it. Besides, even if you could go back, keeping the knowledge of what happened with you, and do things differently, there's no guarantee that your friend would have followed."

Dean feels an odd sense of shocked awareness flash through him, "W-What?"

"If he has someone, someone like you, care so much about him, it's obvious he had some very nobel traits. If that is true, then he had good intentions that led him to make his decision," Dean's eyes widen, remembering that it had been God's voluntary absence that led to Castiel's decision, "So, even if you could have changed what you did, it doesn't mean it would've changed what he did."

"H-How did you come up with that?" Dean asks, shocked at the level of depth perception this woman carries.

A saddened smile tugs at her lips, "I didn't live an easy life. My parents, they wanted what they thought was best for their kids and were adamant about Violet and I attending some Ivy League school, become lawyers, or doctors, or some career with a substantial amount of income," She pauses, turning her gaze away from Dean, "Being the oldest, I accepted it and fell in line, if only to keep them from coming down so hard on my sister. My Senior year of high school, I had a lot of free time in my schedule, so I took some other electives, to give my portfolio a more rounded appearance. I became interested in music, more than I had been before, and I learned more and more about photography. After I graduated, I left home, not even applying for an Ivy League school."

"Good for you," Dean comments lightly, not comfortable with the growing sorrow in her gaze.

"It was, for me, but it caused my parents to come down twice as hard on Violet. Unlike me, she rebelled. She started hanging around the 'bad' crowd, and soon she fell in with people even worse. Two years ago, I got a phone call from one of her best friends. She found Violet dead with an empty pill container," Dean's eyes widen in shock at the thought, "I came home, arranged the funeral and grew angry. My parents, if you could call them that, were too busy on their second, or third, honeymoon. Though, they did send a bouquet of flowers as their condolences."

"Your parents sound like a bunch of dicks to me," Dean states, wondering why parents would put so much pressure on their own kids, but his own father flashes through his mind.

"I agree. After the funeral, I used whatever money I saved up over the years, bought this house from my parents and they've never been back," Iris shrugs indifferently at the thought, "I wondered what would have happened if I hadn't followed my own dream. I'd be unhappy, but my sister would be alive. Then...then I remembered exactly why it would have never worked if I could go back and change it." Seeing the curious gleam in Dean's eyes, she smiles sadly, "Violet was the one to encourage me to pursue my dream. I remember the pride she showed when I left, and I know that, that one look would have caused me to do it all over again."

Dean smiles as the warmth grows in her eyes, "So, you'd never change it?"

"I doubt I'd have the strength to go against my sister's pride. Look, all I'm saying is, now you have a second chance with your friend, so instead of wishing to change the past, just...fix the now and prepare for whatever might happen in the future. You couldn't have been that bad if he asked for you before anyone else."

Dean blinks, realizing the truth behind her words. Changing the subject, he starts a conversation on musicians she's met, while she asks questions about Castiel, his brother, himself and the Hunt against all things evil in the world. Hearing footsteps, Dean glances up in time to see Sam enter the kitchen. Iris greets him with a warm smile, not a single trace of their earlier conversation on her face. Maybe that is why she had been branded by an Enochian sigil. She lived a life just as dark as they did, only without the supernatural stuff in it.

She understands.

"Is he still going on about missing his baby?" Sam asks as he interrupts Dean retelling of how he rebuilt his car after it was hit by a semi-truck.

Iris giggles, nodding in return, "Oh yes. It's commendable to his person that she went in an honorable death. Sadly, the one I have in the garage doesn't run right and I know next to nothing on how to take care of it."

Both of brothers turn to stare at her blankly, Dean swallowing his mouthful of eggs, "You have a '67 Impala in your garage?"

"It was my grandfathers. His most prized possession next to his camera. My father wanted nothing to do with it, but I kept it," she responds.

"I can fix her up for ya," Dean states, causing her to tilt her head slightly, "Think of it as repayment for letting us stay here while Cas gets back on his feet."

"It's in the garage, under a tarp. Don't touch the Mustang, or the Charger. Those are cars I'm keeping here for a few friends who travel a lot," she says, rolling her eyes in faux-annoyance.

Blue eyes slowly slide open, staring at the strange ceiling above. Gingerly sitting upright, Castiel muses inwardly over the weakness of his vessel. Wondering where he is, the angel of the Lord struggles to get himself out of the soft bed. Exiting the room, he catches the distant sound of a feminine voice ringing melodically through the hallway. Following the sound, he struggles to hide the pain in his body as he staggers down the staircase and enters the kitchen area.

"The bottle once empty,
Now too full,
Contents overflowing,
Unable to pull,
The lid is shaking,
Ready to blow,
Sanity draining,
The pace too slow."

The ebony-haired woman standing at the sink seems to be in her own world, and Castiel grows a bit concerned. He should probably announce himself, but something keeps him silent and still in the doorway.

"What was once whole,
lies shattered at my feet,
the heart of it all,
broken by defeat.
Everything tried,
The best that I could,
It's never been enough,
and I knew it never would.
Love is a sentiment,
an illusion of the heart.
Families all smile,
As they all fall apart.
Ties of friendship,
begin to fray,
Where does everyone go,
When I ask them to stay?"

Her voice cuts off suddenly and Castiel watches tension build in her shoulders. Slowly, the woman turns around and deep green eyes stare at him widely. Who is she? What is causing him to feel something familiar? Staring back into those eyes, Castiel recognizes them as the last thing he remembers between the present and his time in Purgatory.

"You're awake!" she gasps in surprise.

"I am. Who are you?" he asks, tilting his head as he examines her petite stature.

A faint blush tinges her cheeks, "Iris Watson. You...kind of passed out on my front porch. Your friends will be pleased to know you are awake. They've been worried."

Friends? "You mean Dean and Sam Winchester?"

"Yup," she says, the word ending with a 'pop', "Before you passed out, you refused a hospital, but wanted to get in contact with Dean. I found his number in your cell phone and called him."

"Where are they?"

"Um...Sam went to fetch me some groceries and Dean's in the garage playing around with my papaw's Impala," His eyebrow ticks slightly at the last statement, not at all surprised by Dean's obsession with human transportation.

"Why is Sam doing your shopping?" Castiel wonders aloud.

Iris giggles slightly, "I seem to be unable to leave my house because of you. Sam said he thinks you formed some kind of bond with me out of desperation."

Offended, Castiel stands straighter, "I would never form a bond with a human without their consent."

Iris remains passive as she tugs at the collar of her shirt, pulling it down to show him the sigil resting at the center of her chest, just above the gentle swells of her breasts, "This showed up after I tended your injuries."

Looking of the sigil, Castiel glances up at her briefly, "Did you feel as though something was burning you?" She nods gently, "Strange. It seems as though my grace formed a bond with you on its own. For that, I apologize."

Seeing the sincerity, Iris shakes her head, "Don't worry about it. I'm just glad I could help." An uncomfortable silence falls over the two, before Iris motions toward a side door in the kitchen, "The garage is right through there. I'm sure Dean will want to know you are awake."

Nodding curtly, Castiel turns on heel and makes his way into the garage. The familiar sound of Dean singing off key to some classic Rock song greets him first. Winding his way around two cars, one a deep burgundy red while the other being a dark sapphire blue, Castiel finds himself pausing a few feet away from a familiar car. At the sight of a familiar figure leaning in to peer over the engine, Castiel wonders how he should greet his friend. After everything he did, did to hurt Dean, and what he did to Sam's mind, he can never make up for it.

"Back already? Please tell me you didn't buy a crap ton of rabbit food-"

Dean's greeting falls silent as he pulls himself from the engine cabin and finds himself staring into the familiar blue eyes of his angel friend. The socket wrench in his hand drops to the floor with a metallic clang, shock staking claim to his features.

"Cas? You're awake!"

Castiel nods, slightly comforted by the familiar nick name, "It appears so. Thank you for arriving here when you did."

"Yeah, well, when a random woman calls me at two in the morning and tells me some guy in a tattered trench coat passed out on her front porch after asking for me, I didn't really have a choice," Dean responds, waving off Castiel's attempt at starting an apology, "Look, I know you enough to know what you're going to say. Don't. What happened, happened. We just...move on."

Castiel is not quick to take Dean's words seriously. In the past, Dean has always shown a trait of bottling up issues and later blowing up because of them. Castiel himself had seen it happen on more than one occasion between the two Winchester brothers, especially during the Apocalypse and their attempt at stopping the seals from breaking.

"Look, Cas, Sam and I are glad you're alright. I know things between us didn't end on a good note, but...trust me, we won't be taking advantage of you anymore. We're both sorry we did it in the first place, and I'm sorry that I couldn't get you out of Purgatory. By the way, how did you get out?"

The angel shrugs his shoulders, "I am not sure. Though, after speaking with Iris just a moment ago, I have an idea of what happened. Or at least who did it."

"Oh yeah?"

"She says that the sigil, the brand on her chest, appeared after she touched me. It seems as though my grace acted on its own accord and formed a bond with her. A bond that is difficult to break," Dean cocks a questioning eyebrow, "There is only one other being that can manipulated an angel's grace, other than the angel itself."

Disbelief flashes through Dean, "You mean God? You think God pulled you out and forged a bond between you and Iris?"

"I do. Though, I am unsure as to why He would choose such an average human," Seeing a gleam of understanding in Dean's eyes, Castiel tilts his head, "You have an idea as to why He made this choice?"

"She understands, Castiel," Dean pauses briefly, turning his gaze away, "She may not be familiar with what goes on in our lives, but Iris, she is wise for someone her age. I think she can help you forgive yourself."

"I have."

Dean snorts in disagreement, "That's bullshit. You and I both know you are your harshest critic. Maybe your Father believes this to be a better way of you redeeming yourself. She can't even walk out to get a newspaper without being in pain. Maybe she can teach you something you haven't learned yet."

"Perhaps you are correct. What are we to do? We can't stay-" Castiel realizes Dean must have already considered this idea, "You are going to bring her with us?"

"Cas, we don't really have a choice. That pain could go both ways for all we know."

"Angels do not require food."

Iris ignores Castiel's statement as she sets a freshly grilled burger in front of the angel, "Angels may not, but humans do. Your...vessel is human, and from what you tell me, you are not one hundred percent angelic at the moment. In order for your...body to heal itself, it needs sustenance. So eat the damn burger or I'll shove it down your throat."

The two Winchester brothers choke on their chuckles as Castiel stares at Iris as though he had never met a creature like her before. Slowly, the angel lifts up the burger and takes a timid bite. Iris rolls her eyes as her house phone rings. Not wanting to be rude, she lets it go to the answer machine.

'You've reached the phone of Iris Watson. I'm either not able to get to the phone right now, or just ignoring your call. Leave a message, and I'll get back to you. If I don't, take a hint.'

"Yo, Iris! Still haven't change that damn message of your's. Tyler caught our show in Toronto and we e-mailed it to you. Kay says if you don't call, she's going to personally fly herself there and shove her foot up your ass. Dude! Kay, no! You can't take my ph- Iris Melody Watson!" Iris's eyes widen as a feminine voice cuts through the deep masculine, "You better get your ass on the fucking phone right this minute! Or so help me, I will-"

Iris ignores the amused chuckle from Sam and Dean as she jumps up from her seat and grabs the phone, "Kay! Sorry, I...uh..have some company over. No! Not that kind of company, you dirty-minded bint. Yeah, so what of it. No. Some old friend from school had a sick friend, whose doctor said getting out of the city for a while would help him recover better. Yes, his friend is fine. Of course I'll check it out. I'm sorry, you said who?" The brothers share a glance as Iris's eyes widen and a small squeal leaves her lips, "No fucking way man! Oh, you are one lucky bitch. I'll see what I can do. I'm planning on going on a road trip at some point. Alright. Try not to pass out on some random floor. Later."

Hanging up the phone, Iris blushes at the curious stares, "Sorry. My friend Kay is a bit...over zealous at times. Quite the violent one she is. So, you guys were saying I might have to travel with you guys until we can find a way to reverse the bonding?"

The two Hunters, and their angelic friend, nod in response. Iris sighs as silence falls over the table. As her thoughts turn inward, Iris wonders what random form of luck decided to pull her from the mundane and shove her into a world she isn't very familiar about. Unless you count what she's read in books, or seen in movies. Which probably carries very little facts.

Swallowing a mouthful of beer, Iris glances over at the silent angel. Hopefully, this angelic bond wouldn't mess with her life too much.

That saying if her life actually ever goes as planned.

Thanks for reading! Please leave a review. I am trying to keep canon characters in character. Let me know what you guys all think!

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