I don't own Supernatural. Darn. I do own Asher Michaels and this story, excluding the bits from the show. My friend Shauna owns Amelia Shaw, and I am using her in my story with her permission. This fic is rated for violence, blood, language, drinking, sexual situations and, hopefully, some scary shit. I don't know how good I will be at writing scary stuff since I've never actually tried before. Enjoy the stories.

Monster Hospital, Book Four: Angels.
Chapter Seven: Castiel.

Asher didn't even ask where Dean and Bobby had managed to find the empty storage facility. She didn't really care. It was large enough to fit almost anything that could possibly come when Bobby started the summoning ritual, and it was remote enough that they wouldn't draw any unwanted attention from the normal people in the settlements around them. Asher had taken all that in as they'd driven up in her truck, and that was all she cared about. Asher's focus was completely on her shell of a sister. She couldn't take her eyes off Amelia, who hadn't said anything since visiting Pamela and who was sitting on the floor of the bunker, facing the door with her knees pulled up to her chest, pale eyes wide and unblinking as Dean and Bobby coated the inside of the building with every glyph they could possibly think off and that might be useful; Sam had volunteered to stay back at the hotel and do research, hoping to find anything that could help them.

"Hey Ash, we could really use your help."

She turned at Bobby's voice and took the proffered paintbrush to start working on the Devil's Trap she was supposed to be painting on the floor and ceiling right inside the door; the rickety ladder she had to use was a little frightening. The feeling of Amelia's eyes tingled along her spine, even though Asher knew her sister wasn't looking at her, but it was uncomfortable, so she made quick work of her task, breaking a rung on the stupid ladder in the process, and then retreated to the back of the bunker, arms crossed under her chest; she was careful not to smudge any of the carefully painted or drawn wards. Dean watched her move, but didn't say anything and for that, she was glad. She just wanted a few moments of silence before they had to confront the angel. Or whatever the hell he was. A few minutes to try and figure out what the fuck she was going to do.

Eventually, Dean and Bobby finished double- and triple-checking all the glyphs, lying out all the weapons they had brought with them—it was enough to scare even a seasoned hunter and a varied enough arsenal to take out just about anything—and took their places for the actual summoning. Bobby had some concern that Amelia's placement and apparent connection to the angels would screw things up, but they decided to proceed without trying to move her. She wasn't exactly cooperative in her trance and no one felt like fighting to move her dead weight.

Asher moved to stand beside Dean, her sawed-off gripped tightly in one hand, the other running along the barrel, a nervous gesture. She wasn't ready for this. Dean had his hand on a similar weapon, but his other one was resting on the small of Asher's back, a bit of comfort in the unsettling situation.

"Ready?" he asked, voice quiet.

She had a sudden urge to lean into him, to kiss him, to do anything that would take her mind off the situation, but she couldn't. Wouldn't. Not with Bobby standing right there and Amelia in her current state and the Apocalypse bearing down on them. Not with a potential angel about to barge in. She wasn't ready. She was not ready. How did someone get ready for something like this? "I'm ready," she finally said. "As I'll ever be." The werewolf managed to flash a toothy smile at Dean before she turned to Bobby. "Let's get this ball rolling or whatever. I want to get out of here."

The older hunted nodded, shared a look with Dean, and then focused on the book propped open to the page with the ritual needed for summoning… well, Asher wasn't sure what the ritual was actually supposed to summon, but Bobby promised that the translation could be angel and it was the only ritual Bobby had found that had a chance of working. As his deep and slightly raspy voice started to echo around the space, Asher felt a stir deep inside, like someone was moving a spoon through the part of her that was a wolf, like they were mixing batter and it was blurring the lines between her human and animal sides. A low growl escaped her mouth and she felt her fingers tense into claws like she was on the cusp of transforming; she knew it was connected to the words Bobby was speaking, just as she'd reacted violently to Pamela's séance, but she didn't know why. She moved away from Dean a little, her wolf protesting loudly inside, invisible claws scraping against her skin. Her wolf was hungry and bothered.

"Ash?" Dean tried to get closer, but she waved him off.

"Keep an eye out for Castiel," she barked. "I'm fine." A bit of vomit worked its way into her mouth, but she swallowed and dropped to her butt on the concrete. The wolf screamed inside and her bones shifted slightly.

Reluctantly, Dean moved back to his original position and paid attention to what was going on, leaving Asher squirming on the floor; she knew his eyes kept flicking back to her semi-foetal position, he was worried about her and she was oddly comforted by it. Bobby stopped speaking a moment later and it felt as if a weight had been lifted from Asher. Everything was still inside her. She dropped onto her back and lay there, waiting, listening for the arrival of their mysterious angel. Her breath came in ragged pants, but the wolf was quiet.

But nothing was happening.

Not only was it still inside Asher, but the bunker was still as well. No one was moving or saying anything. No one was breathing. Everyone was waiting, anticipating the worst. They just kept waiting.

And waiting.

And waiting.

Eventually Bobby moved to the work benches where the weapons were laid out and leaned against it, arms crossed over his chest. Dean hopped up onto the table across from him and laid his shotgun on the table beside him. Asher joined them a moment later, seated beside Dean, her gun on the other side of them; all weapons were ready for easy access. The trio remained silent, Bobby idly scratching his beard, Dean playing with his watch and Asher staring at the floor. Amelia remained in a trance, staring at the door, except now she was rocking slightly, back and forth and emitting some high-pitched hum in a tune no one could place. When the noise reached a volume loud enough for everyone to hear, they all watched her for a moment, contemplating the strange behaviour in continuing silence.

When the silence became too much to bear, Asher asked, "What's up with Sammich?" She wasn't really concerned, just looking for something to say. Sam Winchester was a big boy; he could take care of himself.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"He's just been… not really Sammich since you came back from Hell and we didn't talk to him at all after you disappeared. It was like he had vanished or died. He wouldn't even take Amelia's phone calls and they were sleeping together." She ignored the look of mild surprise from Bobby and continued on. "And now he passes up hunting down an angel? That doesn't seem like something he'd do, even for research. Being the first hunters to go after an angel is like live-action research."

Dean shrugged and Bobby said, "He's probably just adjusting to Dean being back. It can't have been easy to think his brother was dead."

Asher gave the older hunter an indignant look and sighed. She ran one hand back over her hair, straightening her stray black bangs and wiping beads of sweat away. "And, I wasn't going to say anything, but he doesn't smell like Sam anymore. He almost smells… like a demon."

"Like a demon?" Dean snorted and Bobby gave a small chuckle. "Ash, I think your wolf is out of whack or something. Sam doesn't have enough blood from Yellow Eyes to smell like a demon. And you've always been able to smell him before."

Asher tried to find an answer, but was unsuccessful. Luckily, Bobby had a segue prepared.

"Speaking of the wolf," Bobby said, deftly changing subjects. "How's the control coming?"

Asher paused, not really sure if she wanted to talk about this. But her wolf had other ideas. She remained silent, her mind moving inward of its own accord, down to that spot in her core where the wolf resided, like it was called there by the beast. She rose up, a hulking black form, lean and intimidating, a low growl rumbling in her throat and heat radiating from her nostrils. The alliance Asher had forged with her wolf was tenuous and liable to break at any minute. The only reason she hadn't gone mad and torn everyone to bits yet was because she changed frequently, ran and killed animals for the wolf to feast on. She had reached out to the wolf and, with Dean's help, fought for whatever control she had. Without realizing it, Asher placed a hand over her stomach. "All right, I think. Although, when this is over, I'm going to need to go for a very long, long run. Maybe even spend a couple days as a wolf to calm her down. And calm myself down."

"I don't think I'll ever get used to you talking about… your wolf as a separate person."

Asher looked at Dean and then at Bobby, who nodded his agreement before she nodded her own. It wasn't exactly a normal situation, even in their world of supernatural things, angels, demons and crazy people. Everyone they had ever encountered who shared Asher's "werewolfitus" was either dead, driven crazy or stuck in wolf form. No one else had apparently had the stubbornness, energy or whatever exactly it was that had allowed Asher to communicate with her wolf.

"It's too bad she can't talk," Asher said.

"That would be inter—"

And that was when the metal structure started to shake around them, violently and like it was about to fall apart at the seams; if it hadn't been for all the magic floating around the place, it might have done just that. There was a loud crack like a simultaneous shot of lightning and thunder and the bare bulbs hanging above them flickered. Bobby, Dean and Asher jumped away from the tables, weapons in hand, and took up ready positions behind Amelia. The doors flew open, a sharp burst of wind blowing them all a step backwards; Amelia didn't move. The only sign she hadn't turned to stone was her hair and clothes blowing backward.

In the open doorway a man wearing a trench coat and loose tie stood, staring intently at them all, his eyes dark and his face cast into sharp relief by black shadows. Lightning flashed and the silhouette of a pair of massive wings appeared against the wall of the storage facility.

Dean and Bobby started shooting, bullets bouncing around the metal building, holes appearing in the body of the man. There was no blood and no noises of pain, just the ping ping ping of bullets snapping against the corrugated walls and the shouting of the hunters. After taking in the sight of an honest-to-God-angel, raised her shotgun and fired, the specially blessed bullets having no effect. She fired until it clicked empty. For a second, she saw the wall behind him through the angel's shoulder before the wound knit itself closed; she could have sword she saw a shot of golden light before it happened.

When the din of bullets stopped, there was a moment of silence and that same stillness from before settled on the bunker. The angel, who could only be Castiel, stood there and stared at them all, the emotionless set of his face sending shivers down Asher's spine; the lack of scent was also unsettling. Everything had a smell. Everyone had a smell. The wolf reared her head again at the strangeness and sniffed deeper. Asher smelled metal, chalk, paint, guns, Dean, Bobby, not-Amelia… everything she expected to, but not the angel.

"CASTIEL!"

The sudden inclusion of Amelia's voice startled everyone. Three heads turned in sync to watch the woman spring to her feet, full of life again, and run across the concrete floor to stand in front of the stoic angel. Asher thought, for a mad second, that her sister was going to through her arms around Castiel, but she just stood there and smiled up at him, a new light in her gray eyes.

"Castiel!" she said again.

He blinked once, slowly, and lowered his head to Amelia's face as if seeing her there for the first time. His mouth twitched, almost a smile. The pair were totally unaware of the wide-eyed gazes coming from the hunters behind them.

"Hello Amelia."

Author's Note.

Okay, so I don't actually know where that storage facility was. I don't pay THAT close of attention to the background details in the show. Not always, anyway. Whatever. It doesn't matter. The main point was getting Castiel in the picture and thickening the "mysterious" Amelia plot, as well as getting through the ACTUAL plot.

Enjoy!

Next Chapter: Purpose and Pain.