The excitement had more or less died down after the importune surgery. Word of the new arrival spread like wildfire through the camp. Like teenagers with a trashy rumour it went from person to person until finally, Dean confirmed it. He and the others had indeed found a woman during their last round. Though for the rest of the camp he didn't disclose the injures; the reason why she was cooped up in a cabin and shielded from the rest of the world. The group got a fluff piece to shut them up. It would work for now, till the mystery woman was back on her feet. He didn't know when that would be but he hoped it would be soon.

Like everything else in life the removal off the bullet had played out to be one of those 'easier-said-than- done' things. The woman had woken up almost automatically. God, the scream on her almost rivalled the ones he'd heard during his time in hell. She'd tried to get off the bed, which resulted in further injury when the scalpel slid further and deeper than intended. After a whole minute they all realized that if she kept thrashing she would giver herself a heart attack or bleed out right there on the bed. They had to tranquilize her. She was back out in seconds; luckily Lisa managed to finish the job before things had a chance to get worse.

They dressed her wounds and took away her ruined top and muddy jeans. Castiel had sacrificed an old green shirt for the greater good. She wouldn't have been totally naked when she woke up, Lisa had done the undressing so the navy bra and black boy shorts stayed; till she could find something else for her to wear. Once she and the cabin were cleaned up it was business as usual. Everyone else went back to business that is. Somehow he had gotten himself the role of babysitter. Dean had said that his time as an angel qualified him for the task of looking after the unconscious girl. Castiel disagreed with this, but somehow he ended up sitting in a chair beside the bed.

He had been sitting in the rickety wooden chair for at least five hours straight now. Five excruciating hours. There were bits of wood and nails digging into his back, but he barely noticed. That wasn't what was getting to him. The fact that time was passing so slowly was starting to irritate him. Lisa had said that the medicine would wear off by morning. By then the woman would at the very least be awake; but no. It was almost dark out and she was still out of it. A whole day wasted. A whole day spent staring into a blank canvas.

It truly was amazing, what narcotics could do. One minute she was in a violent frenzy, then the next it looked like she was barely alive. He hated to admit but the sudden jolt of life had caught him off guard. The fear in her eyes had been seared into his mind. He'd seen many of those expressions before, but for some reason that one wasn't proving easy to cleanse. The image stayed as it was. Right now there wasn't much to combat it. He had already downed a few pills, that did nothing to help the time pass or provide a source of amusement. If anything, it made his body say that it was okay to sit there and stare at the comatose girl

Unbeknownst to Cas, Dean had warned his usual bra-wearing entourage to stay away from the cabin and that Castiel was busy with something 'extremely' important.

Around noon Chuck had brought in some food and a beer, and the mystery woman's duffel bag; muttering something about him having to check it. Chuck was the last person he'd seen. Now he could smell the faint smoke coming from the fire pit outside and the landscape was slowly getting darker. He would sneak out for fresh air later but till then – back to observations.

So far he had the obvious. The woman was pretty despite the fact that she had a split lip and an assortment of bruises along her neck and the right side of her face, around her ear and along her jaw. Those were aged though, they'd be gone in a few days. She had long brown hair that fell an inch or two past her shoulders, and from that split second earlier he had seen a pair of murky but expressive green eyes. She was attractive that was for sure. Beautiful even, prettier than a few of the women that he constantly surrounded himself with.

But a face was nothing without a name. Surely she had to have one. That reminded him…her bag. With a grunt he leaned over and grabbed the black duffle by the straps, hefting it onto his lap. It was actually fairly light. The zipper was already partway undone; Castiel guessed that Dean had gone through the bag first before passing it onto Chuck. Sure enough someone had. There was an empty shoulder holster and at least two knife sheaths, not including what looked like the scabbard of a machete. It actually reminded him of a hunter's bag. Rock salt, two different flasks. One with holy water and the other with some type of whiskey. The second flask he of course had to pull out. There were various old books on the occult and paranormal. Legitimate texts in various languages. Aside from the flask the real item of interest was a wallet.

An old worn piece of leather, a mans wallet. Inside there were small photos and various pieces of ID. Even a necklace. A small Celtic cross on a silver chain, but that wasn't as interesting as the pictures and the licenses. The first two snapshots were dated 2008 and 2009. The first showed their mystery woman sitting at a diner booth with three other people. Two men and another woman. That photo was taken before the virus had been released, obviously during happier times. The second photo, he assumed was taken in late '09 after the virus was making the rounds. Why did Cas assume that? In this photo there were two people sitting on a bed and cleaning out hand guns. Their girl was sitting on the left, and a blond man from the previous photo sitting across from her. He could only see half of their faces thanks to the angle at which the picture had been taken but it was obvious that they both were miserable and sleep deprived.

Castiel put the pictures back into the wallet and withdrew the licenses. One was from the forest and fisheries department in Pennsylvanian and two others were drivers licenses. The hunting license belonged to one 'Brad McKinnon,' The same name on the first drivers license. Given the picture, Brad was the brunette that was sitting beside mystery girl in the first, happier photo.

The second license belonged to one Allison McKinnon. Pay dirt. That license belonged to the unconscious woman that Dean had shot the day before. Her eyes were unmistakeable. Satisfied with what he had uncovered he carelessly shoved the wallet back into the bag and placed it back on the floor. All the while keeping the flask filled with whiskey.

"Allison." Castiel murmured under his breath. She didn't look like an Allison, but parents always seemed to pick the strangest names for their children. For explain, Dean and Samuel? What had John and Mary been thinking?

He titled the chair back, propping his legs up on the bed. Castiel slowly unscrewed the silver cap of the flask, raising it to his lips. Allison had good taste. The luke-warm liquid was smooth with a bit of a kick that put together a rather satisfying after taste. Dean couldn't have been the one to check the bag, because if he had that flask would have been added to his own private stash.

Well, at least now he had an alcoholic beverage to help pass the time.

Or so he'd thought.

The whiskey provided a nice buzz, unfortunately he couldn't do much about it. By now his limbs had lapsed into a comfortable state of numbness and he could feel the late hour tugging at his all too human body. It was sometime around midnight now and Castiel was all too tempted to go curl up in someone else's bed. There were a handful of women that would welcome him with open arms but if Dean saw him out of the cabin he would likely try to pull rank. A loud discussion that he did not want to have at the present time. If Allison didn't wake up by morning, he'd get some of the more sympathetic members in here to watch over her. It wasn't like Chuck had anything important to do.

It was roughly around midnight when he first heard the sound. First Castiel passed it off as an unwelcome breeze making it's way through the cabin. It was something like a low-pitched moan. Then he heard it again, louder this time. He dragged himself off of the chair, eyes straining in the darkness. Even though he was right beside the bed, he'd missed the movement. He was only human, or mostly human. Night-vision wasn't a natural human quality.

He pressed one hand against the side of the bed for balance as he leaned over. Had it been her? He hovered over her for a moment, focussing every ounce of available attention on her. Aside from the rise and fall of her chest, there was nothing. That was enough for one night, he needed to get out of the cabin. If she was in a coma she wasn't likely to get any trouble. At this point Castiel couldn't have cared less. Dean was probably occupied anyway, he wouldn't do a bed check.

Just as he was about to straighten himself out he heard a loud gasp. The type of noise a human made when they had just received an unpleasant surprise, or something of the sort. What followed the gasp, he had not been expecting. As Castiel leaned back over to check on Allison again, a hand shot up.

Given the darkness it looked like it came out of nowhere. The hand clamped itself around the collar of his shirt, jerking him downwards. He could feel a cool laboured breath against his face, and when his eyes focussed on the new target it was like he was looking at a ghost; or a memory. There were the eyes. Her eyes, wide and fearful.

She was awake.

{ { A/N: Yes! I'm sorta proud of myself right now. As always, please R&R! The feedback makes me want to right more. It's almost like crack? But not illegal or anything. Awkward introductions in the next chapter! } }