Author's Note: If you're at all interested, feel free to go back and read over the previous chapters. I went through and edited a lot of things. As I said, I have a full time job, so a lot of the chapters I'd just quickly whipped out, but this weekend I was able to go back through and add some extra depth and meat to them. It's nothing that you'll be lost without, so if you skip this author's note no worries. I'm still a little on the fence about this chapter, can't even figure why. I'll let you guys be the judge.

Also! My new livejournal is up and running and I would love some new friends! I just got it built so I haven't gotten a chance to invite my old friends over haha. Pretty sparse friends page at the mo, ya feel me? ;P

Just click on my author page for the link, otherwise just find me by my username, which is elocinmuse.


L is for Love


The day his brothers and sisters find him is a bad day.

Worse yet, when they find the Winchesters. The angels, so few left, are poisoned by revenge. A new prophet has been chosen; found, naturally, by the brothers because everything is bleeding kismet these days. Members of Castiel's old garrison zero in on the holy branding of the young human's soul. Luckily, or unluckily, the angels care more about him than the Winchesters.

He shows up at the diner to meet the brothers, in a rare good mood because everything in his life lately is awake with purpose and new beginnings. Of course, this is always the moment fate decides to remind him of his mistakes, his ostracism, like a scorching angelic blade to the chest. He is a heavenly pariah and his banishment is as certain as the sun rising in the east.

Two angels had been about to slaughter his friends for the prophet. Castiel, operating on instinct, had his concealed blade in his hand within seconds, his deteriorating Grace and the bright beacons of his siblings' destroying the small diner in the time it took a human to draw breath. Windows shatter as vessels are hurled through them, bodies broken as swords are rent through hearts. Sources of individual Grace are snuffed out like dying flames.

"Cas?" one Winchester shouts.

"Take the boy!" he commands, tearing his weapon from a sister's chest.

Once the Winchesters are clear, Castiel sheathes his blade back in his boot and then leaps forward. He works his tattered wings, pumping them as hard and fast as he can to get to Sioux Falls. To her.

Jody yelps when the angel appears suddenly in her living room, bloody and out of breath. "Cas, what's wrong?" she gasps, frightened by how bad off he looks.

"You're not safe," he tells her, already bleeding from a self-inflicted wound as he starts painting banishing sigils on her walls. Next, he tears off a piece of paper from the notepad on her fridge, sketching quickly. "Draw this symbol on every surface you can. It will keep them out, but they will have already tracked my Grace. I'll hold them off from outside." She's nodding quickly and he explains the situation as best he can in a few short words.

"Dean and Sam?"

"With the prophet, protecting him." His sword his out again and he's ordering her to stay in the house. "No matter what you hear, stay inside."


The storm comes, just as forecasters predicted, but it's somehow worse than simple weather. It feeds off his damaged mood, echoing destruction where he must deal it out. He hears the thunder, mapped in perfect synchrony with every steel blow of matched blades and ruined Grace when they come. He's exhausted, but presses on, because if he fails she will die. His brothers and sisters will find a way into the sheriff's home and all will be lost. She will be lost. This outcome is as unthinkable as it is unacceptable.

So, he actively looks for them, shouts their true names in the rain and wind, in a language older than Man. If he finds them all now, none can harm her later. Right now, he still has his Grace, what little there is left of it. Now, he can protect her.

Castiel yells his surrender to the wet, empty wilderness around the house, to the heavens above him, waiting for any violent response.

That night, he kills seven of his siblings.


It's hours later when Jody finally goes to him. He's known her long enough to realize she'd never let him be alone for long, so he isn't surprised.

His brothers and sisters have just tried to kill him. His two families are at war and every time he closes his eyes there are screams and the sounds of blades clashing. He's bleeding the red of blood and the soft weeping light of Grace that no one's eyes can see but his own. He's bitter from the rain and the elements and from the reminder that his own family has cast him out with the likes of Lucifer and the other Fallen. He is no more than an abomination to them, more corrupt than even the demons can claim. He feels suddenly alone, despite being surrounded by the people he's come to rely on most. But they are, of course, states away, and he is a single solitary form against the dark of night and howling wind.

Except Jody is there.

Jody is always there, picking him up when he stumbles. It feels like she always has been, despite that the thought is unfounded and impossible.

"Cas, get inside!" she calls to him above the storm. He's startled to find how poorly he can hear her, but worried more because she has left the shelter of her protected home. He's so weak now that he doesn't even notice her approach, so weak that her tug on his shoulder actually moves him. "Please, honey, get out of the rain," Jody says, softer. "Come inside."

Castiel looks at her, torn, and sees the concern like a vivid kaleidoscope of color in her eyes, even under the dull gray darkness of the angry skies. "I haven't found them all," he protests.

If he has to kill every last angel so that she can live, he will.

But then she's telling him of the brothers' last call, how a compassionate angel named Inais is helping them look after the prophet until a more practical solution becomes available. They are all safe for the night. There needn't be any more killing.

A part of him still worries that it isn't enough, that more might come and if he doesn't stay vigilant, Jody will end up hurt. She cannot suffer because of him. He can't allow that. But she takes his hand and pulls him towards her house and Castiel can't refuse. As she guides him in, he feels the heat of her hand and realizes this means he's cold. He's cold enough so that this small, soft hand provides him more warmth than the remnants of his heavenly connections. Suddenly it's hard to do anything; hard to walk, hard to breathe, hard to speak with his raw throat, hard to do anything but slide to his knees and imagine ways to fall apart.

"God, sweetie, you're freezing."

But there's Jody, her hand and that warmth, guiding him towards shelter, and he follows her. She keeps him standing.

When they're inside, Jody releases him briefly and he feels it, the absence of that heat on his skin, feels it like a wound. He's worse off tonight than he'd originally thought. What a disgrace he's become. Somehow, they end up in her bedroom and he doesn't even remember how they got there. He feels… disoriented. Not like himself. He has trouble focusing on her as she moves about the room, rooting around in closets and drawers for warm clothes. He just stares at her, thankful that she's safe, although still a little numb. What's wrong with him?

He's pulled out of his delirious haze when he feels her hands working against the buttons of his shirt, getting to work on removing his soaked clothing. "I'm gonna get you some blankets," Jody says, rubbing at his arms. "Get yourself dry first and then put these on." She indicates the small pile of clothes at the edge of her bed and he looks down at the quivering motion of his human body and sees that he's shivering.

So. That's what's wrong with him.

Hypothermia must inhibit brain function. He'll have to remember that. Teeth chattering, he feels a swell of warmth and relief when a heavy fleece throw settles over his bare shoulders. Castiel feels the heat of her body, her arms reaching up to dry his hair, brushing against him as she wraps the blanket tight around him. He just stands there, cold and shaking and useless. "Here, sit," she instructs him, and he sits on the bed. He watches, silent, as she breaks out a first aid kit, and he remembers then that he's worse off than having just the chills.

His wrists are bleeding still from the work of the sigils he'd drawn, and there's a small gash on his temple and a lesion traversing his chest from a blade. The antiseptic doesn't sting much, but there's a pang in his chest all the same.

"You okay?"

Her gentle voice breaks him out of his thoughts and he nods, replying softly. "Fine."

His head is bowed, like he doesn't quite understand what's happening to him, like he can't accept it. Jody looks at him closely, like she might not believe him, but lets it go. She wants to know if he's okay emotionally, because he's just killed a handful of his brothers and sisters. She knows he's not okay physically. Her fingers delve into his hair, smoothing back the damp locks of ebony while caressing away the ache developing there. "I'll be right back."

Again, Castiel nods, saying nothing. He doesn't tell her what it feels like when she moves away from him, that the distance between their bodies makes him feel as frozen as before. When she returns, it's with a glass of whiskey and he almost smiles. "Thank you."

He drinks it quickly, and he can feel it. Can feel the burn in his chest as it goes down and the brief fuzzy sensation in his head that makes him think just a little less, and he stares at her, grateful. Jody's hand is already on his face, a gentle touch in a torrent of tumultuous emotions swirling in his head. She's looking at him with such warmth that he forgets the storm raging outside and realizes he's no longer shaking with the cold. Castiel finds himself turning his face into the contact, leaning into her of his own will.

"You saved me."

Castiel shakes his head, instantly unwilling of any credit to himself. "None got inside."

"Exactly." There's a troubled frown on her mouth that is really meant for smiling. The crease between her brows deepening, Jody shakes her head, looking at him like he's made of something more than the ash he feels inside.

The brothers will be back tomorrow. But right now all he sees is her. "I feel as though there's this empty piece inside of me," Castiel confesses to her quietly, "and I don't know what it's for or why it's there. But tonight… tonight I know I was supposed to be here with you." She's become his compass, his northern star to all things he's been in desperate search of. He looks at her and remembers what it's like to follow. To have a purpose.

"You're so much more precious than you realize, Cas," Jody tells him, conviction making her voice low. She wishes he could see what she does.

"In Heaven I was an expendable timepiece."

"Not on earth," she says, shaking her head. "Not with me."

Their eyes meet, and a thousand words are exchanged. Gazes catch fire, each unable to look away from the light shining in the other. What is it about this woman? What is it she sees in him? It's fascinating, and terrifying. Standing so close to him, Jody reaches down and slides one hand behind his neck, drawing his face to hers so they're a breath away.

"Not with me," she says again. It's more a breath than combination of words. Her arms come around him and she is so warm against his cold body that he almost doesn't notice his own arms move to embrace her, to try and fall into her warmth and leave the cold empty space of this foreign body.

Castiel can't take his eyes off the woman in front of him. He tries to acknowledge her words but his voice isn't working at the moment. He forgets sometimes that he knows how to feel, even if he is a novice at it. She's taught him how, in so many ways. She's shown him things others never have. So while he may not quite yet understand this feeling, he does understand that it needs no explanation. His time with the boys, his time with her especially, have taught him that some things are purely felt. Some things are just so magnificent that they defy any and all explanation. Honesty compels him to admit that this feeling of safety, of acceptance, while in her presence, dazzles him more than the hymns of Heaven or the smoky abysses of Hell. Something stirs in his chest, something far more reckless than the baser desires of his human vessel.

The press of her lips against his is just another reminder of how real and alive this is, how right Dean was about everything all those years ago, how far he himself has come. The spark is immediate, robbing him of all conscious thought upon contact. And then his arms are pulling her closer in spite of the rain just outside the window, or maybe because of it, holding her as close as he physically can. Everything else is gone except the feel of her body in his arms. Their lips move slowly, explore slowly, the sensation hypnotizing in so many ways. He feels weightless and so does she, lost in each other in ways neither would have guessed.

Jody feels the static that she's always felt between them, shifting and moving. Evolving. Castiel has never felt anything like it. It's overwhelming and a little daunting, but she's there, keeping him grounded even as his ruined wings fight against the inevitable pull of humanity. Her hands slip beneath the blanket, feeling across the skin of his back, warming every cold spot until none remain. He shivers all the same when her fingers caress the flesh over the blades of his shoulders and the restless angelic appendages finally settle.

Falling is not so scary when she is the one he's falling with.

Jody crawls onto the bed with him, knees pressing into the mattress on either side of him. He no longer needs the secondary warmth provided by the blanket and it's soon forgotten at the foot of the bed. He notices her frustrations at being tangled momentarily in it and tries to lift her clear, bumping their heads. "Sorry," he says, breaking away and looking at her sheepishly. "I'm not very good at this."

Jody's smiling at him, it's all right, and with such fondness that Castiel can't respond anymore than just to kiss her again. With gentle hands, she smoothes the pain from his worn body, making his tender muscles breathe with new life. Her touch sends a beautiful ache throughout his being. The feeling of weightlessness returns and he's not quite sure how to handle it. He knows what it feels like to fly, but this is beyond his comprehension. A flicker of doubt passes through him. He could so very easily wreck everything blossoming between them. He is not a token of luck.

As if sensing his inner thoughts, Jody draws back just enough to meet his eyes. Her fingers continue to trace affectionate patterns through his hair and across his shoulders. "I wouldn't be anywhere else in the world, right now," she tells him, and it's exactly what he needs to hear.

His lips seek the junction between the column of her neck and shoulder, the pulse beneath a reminder to how real she is. Everything about her is so soft despite the tough front she's always putting up. Jody is stronger than most hunters he's ever met, but her heart is the biggest he's ever known. Her hair is silk under his fingertips, slipping through them like sand in an hourglass, and it's the exact opposite of every harsh thing he's ever felt. She says his name, quiet and sweet, and it's more heaven than anything he can remember. Porcelain skin responds to each gentle caress, fascinating him. Jody's hands explore the vessel he inhabits like it's his own, every invisible burden lifting from his shoulders. For these shining moments, he forgets completely about all he's done. All the guilt, the suffering. In this moment, he feels unquestionably forgiven. When she looks at him, it is without judgment or derision. Before she'd known who he was, after she knew what he'd done.

This is the night Castiel starts to forgive himself.

In these moments, where happy sighs become breathless gasps and broken moans. When, for the first time, the angel wears every emotion on his sleeve; awe, astonishment, and desire flittering across his face in a cacophony of sensations. As Jody whispers every sweet thing against his cheek.

It's the first time Castiel has ever felt loved. He's always known he was, in his little dysfunctional family with the Winchesters and Bobby Singer, even in the short time spent with Ellen and Jo Harvelle, but nothing compares to this. He feels the passion, the warmth, down to the very soul he was never meant to have. It isn't really how either of them had pictured this happening. But maybe that was the point.

The buildup of emotional trauma and this slowly burning ember between them compels the seeking of a far more intimate union. Because maybe they've both been lonely. Her back arcs beneath him and their fingers entwine. Pulses pound within their coupled hands, creating one fervent heartbeat. Their lips seal, not an inch of space between them, and Castiel has no idea where she ends and he begins.


Drifting in the soft heat between them, he marvels while she rests her head against his shoulder, nestling into the curve of his neck as if it had been made for her. He hears the quiet sigh of satisfaction that escapes her lips as his hand slides to the small of her back, possessively drawing her closer. He can still hear her sunny voice, leaving teasing little remarks along the column of his throat; things like you're a fast learner, or at least you're not a screamer, because a good deal of her lights have been blown out. Castiel closes his eyes and smiles. It's strange to be doing that so often lately.

He remembers her laughter, breathlessly saying, you look like you're seeing stars.

He still is.

It's close to morning, and he's mostly healed by now, but not fast enough apparently. She notices the bruises, because Jody notices everything, and gives him a frown. "You need to start taking better care of yourself," she murmurs, pressing a kiss against the marred flesh.

"What do you mean?"

She entwines their hands just a little tighter, brushing rosy lips against his fingers. "You're healing too slowly to be so reckless."

"I heal well enough," he replies, lips upturning a little in an offer of reassurance.

Jody eyes him, with that tender regard that's reeled him in since the start. "Not enough for me."

Over the soft skin of her cheek, his thumb trails. He understands. And it's strange, because he shouldn't. But he worries for her more and more, so it isn't so hard to imagine what that feels like for another—despite that he can't fathom why she cares so much about him.

"No more accidents," she tells him. "No more wars with freezing rain and angry angels. No more unnecessary risks. You're strong, Cas. Stronger than most men will ever be. But you have to be more careful now." Staring into her eyes is like staring into Pandora. The soft, earthy golds and browns appeal to him, quietly imploring. "Just tell me you will. For me?"

And there's that feeling again. The knowledge that he will never deny her a thing. "Of course."

This pacifies her for now. Jody looks at him, eyes combing fondly over his face. His dark hair is disheveled in the most endearing way, his eyes are brighter than she's ever seen them. Still piercing blue, foreign emotions festering beneath. Under her scrutiny, she swears something very close to a blush rises in his cheeks and she shakes her head. He could listen to her laugh for ages. "This wasn't supposed to happen, you know."

"It wasn't?"

Jody looks so comically aggravated with herself that he almost laughs. "I was supposed to seduce you first. You know… buy you roses and candlelit dinners? Bat my eyes at you, drop you subtle signals here and there?"

"That seems…" Castiel considers this for awhile, "backwards. Although, I'm the last person to go to for societal rituals. I'm also not very adept at reading into… signals."

Jody snickers, running her fingers up his chest and smoothing them over his cheek. They ruffle his hair. "In any case, you were supposed to see all the wonders and blunders of dating before all this." She sighs. "Sorry I ruined the whole experience for you."

"You didn't," he says, suddenly serious.

And really, he needs to put that thought out of her head as soon as he can, because it's so far from the truth he'd feel like a liar otherwise. Jody looks at him, touched beyond measure and seeming like he's just put her entire world back together. The sincere intensity in his eyes wraps around her like a balm, soothing away her own fears and old wounds just as keenly as if he'd laid a healing hand on her. "You're an incredible man, Castiel."

"If I am, it's because of you," he tells her, voice brimming with honesty and gratitude. He regards her affectionately, tucking a rebellious lock of hair that's tickling his face behind her ear. "You seem certain this outcome was inevitable."

"Oh honey," Jody gives him a cheshire smile, "I wanted to jump your bones the second I laid eyes on you. This was always going to happen eventually." Castiel actually grins, a small little spark of a thing, but the sight brings fresh joy to Jody's heart. "God, I love your smile." His throaty laugh reverberates against her, and he knows she's kidding, but a part of her isn't. "I don't know. I guess I just had a feeling."

She suddenly looks so unsure of herself and he wants to kiss her again. He knows how difficult it is sometimes to put thoughts into words. "I believe I did as well."

With sleepy eyes and a promising smile, Jody gives him a final kiss before settling back against him. Maybe it's the whisper of her hair like silk against his skin, the endless relief and serenity at finally being able to hold her like this, but he never wants it to end. Castiel could stay like this forever, trapped in the spell she's cast over him. Without thinking, without doubting the reason, he bends his head, pressing his lips against the hidden place just below her ear, before whispering every thought there, wanting her to know that because of her, he can forget the damaged world, the creatures of his own making out there doing sick and twisted things. He's at peace. Because here, in the arms of this human woman, he knows he's home. How odd it is, this sense of all-encompassing relief. Like he can finally breathe again. He wants to protect her, he wants everything for her. It feels sudden and very alien, this desire, but Castiel reflects that the first stirrings of this feeling had bloomed the moment he'd laid eyes on her. The very second she'd said to him you're safe.


The Winchesters are back that morning. Sam is out on a grocery (pie, Sam!) run, and Dean is concocting something resembling a breakfast when Castiel enters the room, forgoing the typical angelic entrance. "Hey man," Dean greets him, eyeing Jody's nonfat milk critically.

A fresh carton of their usual brand suddenly appears before his eyes as the angel sets it on the counter, offering up a welcoming smile. "Dean."

Dean raises an eyebrow. "Thanks." He gives his friend a onceover. "You don't look half bad for a guy who just laid an almighty smitedown on a bunch of dick family members."

"I'll assume that remark is rhetorical," Castiel replies. "How is the prophet?"

This is where the conversation goes for most of the morning. They discuss the new contact and charge they have, what their next move must be, and all mandatory leviathan matters. But the thing that Dean keeps noticing has nothing at all to do with monsters or prophets or the right and wrong brand of milk.

Castiel is smiling.

Not in a weird, unsettling way, or even that patented smirk of confusion. Not even in the way that's glaringly self-conscious. Just… smiling. Dean's reasonably sure the angel doesn't even realize he's doing it. "Dude."

"Yes?"

"How was your night, besides the family reunion? Anything exciting?"

Castiel shrugs, such a human gesture that Dean almost laughs. "Nothing of import."

It's a boldfaced lie.

Now Dean is grinning like an idiot. Good for the little cherub. He could ask where the sheriff is, but Cas is so close to giving it all away that Dean'll let him have this little secret. "If you say so," the hunter all but gushes. You sly dog.

Castiel is unsurprisingly oblivious and damn, has he got it bad. Dean chuckles under his breath. It's like little virgin Sammy becoming a man all over again. He's proud and it's messed up—he knows that—but seriously. Good for the little cherub.


Later on in the day, when Cas and Sam are off on angel and moose adventures—Sam couldn't find any pie at the local shops, so Cas is flying him around the neighboring areas—Dean takes Jody aside and basically asks her intentions. There's really no other word for it.

She's already smiling—that knowing little twist of mouth, showing how amused she is, but also that she understands. Dean, of course, instantly bristles—especially when the sheriff busts out laughing. "What?"

"You're protective of him." At his dry look, Jody elaborates. "Dean, it isn't a bad thing. Family is more than just your bloodline." He remembers those same words coming out of Bobby's mouth and feels something akin to peace. Because yeah, the world might be going to hell, but they all still have each other. "Sure, he's probably got two thousand years on you, but he's still your little brother in spirit." Not to mention she likes feeling like she's the young one.

Jody Mills might be the best thing that's ever happened to Castiel.

She offers Dean a beer and he accepts it graciously, smirking against the lip of the bottle. "If I'd have known you had such a thing for older men I would've eighty-sixed my schoolboy crush a long time ago."

The sheriff's hearty laughter fills the entire house, and Dean, not for the first time, reflects that Cas might have a shot at real happiness after all.


Author's Note: Still a shameless review whore. :D