I'll start at six months ago...

I was tracking a target: Clyde Roswell. He owns around 15 buildings and houses in Caelum, and all of them were dodgy as hell. Most were falling down because of corners cut in construction, others had faulty pipes and electricity that caused many to flood or catch fire. Worst of all he had never been held accountable for his actions. People had been killed, orphaned, widowed, and made homeless as well as thrown out onto the streets while he lives it up in his mansion on the other side of town looking down on the poverty, and still chose to turn his back and not care.

That's when I decided to pay him a visit.

After weeks of careful and strategic planning, I was finally ready. The problem was... I didn't know how. What would I say? What would I do? After 40 minutes in my full body mirror - yes in my suit, yes I'm ashamed - I was all set.

I set off at 10pm on a Tuesday, and he was definitely not expecting guests. I too were especially surprised to see the plural.

Honestly how could he stay in this "home" - yes, air quotes are necessary, it was more of an opera house. With a large gravelled path with tall autumn-browned trees on the edges leaning over, the massive dome that was situated over the entrance, and intimidatingly large solid oak doors.

I - obviously - didn't enter through the front doors. A window is more fitting for me, and I wish for once I could get break and someone would leave a window open. I guess that would be hashtag vigilante wishes. After I make my way through the window - artfully bumping my head on the window latch - I make my way through the oak doors to Roswell's study, only to find a very dead, and a very alive... I don't know, my head is screaming ninja. Assassin uniform was holding a dripping Roswell bloodied sword.

He glanced at me for a second, before swinging his sword towards me. Well shit, if it wasn't the most expected thing I've ever encountered - I watch a lot of TV, sue me. He swung, I dodged, he swung again. I dodged. What I didn't anticipate, was his next move.

I could hear the beat of my heart in my ears, and the sweat that dripped down the side of my face. Also, the perspiration of my armpits, because come on, it's kind of hard not to exert when climbing into an abnormally high two story window.

The masked ninja guy, or whatever, swung a chair that was previously sat in front of Clyde's desk, and knocked me off balance. I tried to swing back but he caught of my sword in my disorientation leaving me defenceless. I grabbed the back of the broken chair and blocked his advance. I took my sword back but it meant I was distracted, he swung his own sword, it caught the side of my stomach.

There were sirens in the background, I looked towards the window and then looked back and he'd gone.

I managed to make it out of the house, and I tried to navigate the way to my apartment. It was a struggle, and I almost made it. I was on top of one of the roof tops - well I couldn't exactly walk the streets can I - and when you're fighting blood loss it's probably not the smartest idea. I started to feel pretty dizzy, and I lost my footing and stumbled back of the building, falling onto some bin bags conveniently laid out by the local cafe. They smelt like fish, but I was grateful.

I lifted my head to surveil the area, I found a tall blond haired man looking down at me. He stared at me in confusion for a bit, but his face quickly changed into a smile and he broke out into a fit of laughter.

"Hey look, it's a fallen angel." He continued to stay in hysterics, while I groaned in pain, for around five minutes more. He eventually ceased his laughter, and offered me a hand.

"You have to admit, that was pretty funny." He said, I'm still pretty sure he had tears in his eyes. Said eyes must have noticed the stab wound, and wrapped his arms around my waist.

"I'm sure it's funnier in enochian."

"My car is around the corner," he said. I made a move to pull away from him, "do vigilantes really need to be worried about stranger danger? If anything you're the danger." He shrugged, "you're the one with the swords dude."

He had a point. I let him lead me to his car - luckily the street was fairly abandoned at this time. The streets - especially this area - of downtown at night was mostly frequented by prostitutes, drug addicts and criminals. I'd hope this is going to change now, but I don't intend on sticking around.

He drove through downtown to some crummy apartment building owned by some other scumbag of some descript, mostly likely. I was lead upstairs to the apartment. Honestly, it was falling down, leaking and I'm pretty there were more rats than bricks that made up the walls. I was dragged through the door, and slung down onto the sofa. He paused for a second, before rushing off to one of the rooms with a first aid kit. I say first aid kit, it was more like the thing you'd need aid after. It was a rusted toolkit. When I asked him about it he just shrugged.

While he was trying to kill me via wound cleaning it was oddly silent. Until he broke it with, "why don't you take off the mask?" Cue dramatic eyeroll. "Don't look at me like that. There's thousands of people in the city, I'm not likely to know you."

He had another point.

I slowly removed the mask, before ruffling up my hair. The encounter I had at clyde's mansion landed a few to my face, leaving huge bruising and cuts along the side of my face.

"Woah, you look like you got hit by a bus." He said with a disgusted expression.

"No bus. I only fell of a building." Wow, you don't have these conversations often.

"Oh yeah." He began to clean the wounds on my face.

"You know," he started, "I haven't introduced myself. I'm Dean."

"C...hris?" I was about to give my name but in any sight, whether it be plain or hind, that's probably not a good idea. You don't meet many Castiels these days... or any days... ever. But you do need millions of Chris'. Like there's an Evans, Hemsworth, Pine, Pratt, etc, etc...

He, Dean, laughed.

"Really? You don't sound so sure."

"Yes?"

"You sure you're sure?"

"No?" Around this point I wasn't actually sure I knew my own name. Concussions are not fun kids.

"Hey I get it," Dean started talking again, "the whole vigilante thing. Gotta keep your anonymity and everything. But answer me one thing, what's with the whole angel thing man."

He went on to analyse the iconic superheroes such as bat man, spider man, and some others that I'd never heard of. As much as I'd have loved to have watch superhero movies, I was a bit busy training to be a vigilante, then a doctor, then a vigilante again. And heaven knows you have no life, and I mean absolutely no life, no love when training to be a doctor. I shudder at the thought - I'm being ironic of course.

Dean was still going on about superheroes.

"I just don't get the whole angels thing. Bats I get, they're cool. Angels on the other hand, aren't they just fat naked dudes with wings."

I didn't really know what to say. I wasn't about to go into detail about my mommy issues with a stranger, but I was concussed and didn't really have anything better to say.

"You calling me fat?"

That sent him into another fit of laughter, he has- had, sorry. He had an easy sense of humour.