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A week had passed since the night Miriana had come close to death, only to be saved at the last minute, and she still had not had to chance to thank her saviour. He hadn't fluttered into existence like she'd hoped he would of, and she had no idea how to contact him. It wasn't like he had a mobile, or an email address. She spent most days pottering around her aunts' vast garden, tidying, sitting by the shore of Lake Pleasant or reading in her room. Her aunt banned her from anything hunting related, insisting she needed to recover properly before she could even start thinking about hunting again. Miriana was not used to not doing anything proactive for such a long time.
She had received a very worried phone call from Dean at five o'clock one morning, demanding to know what had happened, and why hadn't she called sooner, and what did she think she was playing at? Miriana groggily mumbled, I'll ring you back later, and put the phone down. The next day she had had to listen to a particularly long lecture about how important it was to keep people informed and keep communication between hunters. She had managed eventually to cut through his lecture and tell him that she had managed to save a seal, after which he promptly shut up. There was a long moment of silence at the other and of the phone.
"Well, good job, I guess," he finally mustered up.
"Is that it?" Miriana demanded, "Good job?! God, it takes a lot to impress you doesn't it?"
"I didn't mean it like that, I just...I didn't realise how many seals are being broken around us all the time," he sighed, a rush of static over the phone line.
"I know," Miriana said quietly, "Looks like this Armageddon might come quicker than we thought, huh?"
"The angels will stop it," Dean said, although he didn't sound convinced.
"Well they're not doing a very good job so far, are they?" she paused for a second, and then said, "Dean, do you know how to get hold of Castiel?"
"I dunno do I?" he sounded exasperated, "Just dial 911 angel," he sniggered.
"Hilarious," Miriana grumbled, "But seriously?"
"I told you, I don't know. Why?" he asked, sounding suddenly suspicious.
"Nothing," she answered quickly, "I just need to see him for something."
"What?"
"Stop being so bloody nosy!" she snapped.
"Alright, don't get your panties in a twist," he said, "Listen anyway; me and Sam think we've found a case. Feel like joining us?"
Miriana hesitated. She enjoyed hunting with Sam and Dean, but there was a part of her that didn't want to Nate and her aunt and go so far away she couldn't help them. Especially not after the encounter with that demon a week ago.
"I'll...I'll get back to you," she said haltingly.
"Decide quick okay? We're going in the next few days."
Two days later, Miriana was packing her bags, neatly putting her weapons away in the large tan holdall she used to store some of her weapons when she was hunting on the road, and folding her clothes away. Her aunt hadn't seemed that surprised or upset when Miriana told her she was hunting with Sam and Dean for a while; on the contrary, she seemed quite pleased that she was spending time on the road. Nate acted indifferent, but Miriana had the sneaking suspicion that he was more disappointed than he would ever let on. She saw his dark, chocolate brown eyes fall when she told him, but he instantly covered it up by shrugging it off. She felt guilty for leaving him, but she knew time out hunting with Sam and Dean would be good for her, however much of a wrench it was for to leave the remnants of her family for weeks.
Miriana finished folding the last of her clothes into a large leather carry bag, then shut the suitcase and zipped it up, then heaved it down to the bottom of the stairs, where the tan holdall was already waiting. Nate was in his room, the dull strains of Greenday reverberating through the house, and her aunt had gone down for walk around Lake Pleasant in the unseasonably warm weather. She left her bags at the foot of the stairs and wandered out of the front door and slouched in her favourite bench in her aunts rose garden, the one that over looked the steep rolling hills, at the bottom of which lay Lake Pleasant. She rubbed a hand across her temples, trying to erase the slight nagging pain that heralded the start of a migraine. The pain in her ribs had receded enough so that she could forgot about it for at last a little while, but her skin was still black and blue, fading out to a sickly yellow around the edges. The bruises on her face had all but healed, and the lacerations on her back had scabbed over, which meant if she stretched her back to far they split open, so she spent most of her time focusing on stretching as little as possible.
Whilst she was outside and no one was around, she decided to try something she'd been thinking of for the past few days. She took a deep breath, and feeling highly self conscious and more than a little stupid she said,
"I don't really know how this works, but I'm guessing I talk, and you can hear, so...er...Castiel, I really need to talk to you."
She held her breath and waited, twisting her long pale fingers and hopping from foot to foot. After a few seconds, she sighed loudly.
"I guess that didn't work," she muttered, turning around, only to nearly walk into a tall figure stood behind her.
"Arrgh!" she squeaked, covering her hand with her mouth, "For Christ's sake don't do that!" she exclaimed at Castiel, who took a step backwards, looking slightly sheepish.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, "I didn't mean to startle you."
"Well, then don't just appear like that! Just give me some warning! Bloody hell!"
He stayed silent for a few seconds, then when Miriana's breathing had slowed down, he said,
"You wanted to talk?"
"What?" Miriana asked, momentarily distracted by his sudden appearance, "Oh right, yeah.."
She looked down at her shoes, and shuffled her feet back and forth on the slightly damp grass.
"Look...I...er," she struggled to find the right words, very aware that she was floundering, "I just wanted to say thank you. I mean, I'd be six feet under right now if it weren't for you, so...thanks."
"I...it's..." she was surprised to hear him struggling for words as well; the situation between the two of them was the epitome of awkward, "You're very welcome," he said at last.
She couldn't think of anything to say, and the uncomfortable silence stretched between them as it always seemed to do whenever the two of them were together.
"I wanted to ask," he began, and Miriana looked up, surprised to find that now he was the one staring at his feet, as if his shoes had suddenly become an object of fascination, "How are you?"
"Me?" she said, bewildered, "Oh, I'm fine."
He raised his eyes to hers, and she could swear that she saw concern in them, deep down in his the stormy blue depths.
"Are you sure?"
She was going to lie, but his intense eyes seemed to interfering with her thought processes, and she blurted out,
"Well, my ribs ache when I breathe still, and the bruises haven't faded yet, and the cuts on my back open every time I move, but you know, could be worse, I mean I'll heal," she babbled. She immediately dropped her eyes, embarrassed, feeling a wave of red hot heat flood across her cheeks.
"Are you going hunting this week?" he asked suddenly.
She was confused by his interest in her, "Yeah, with Sam and Dean."
"Are you sure that's wise?" she suddenly realized he was stood closer to her than he was before. When did that happen?
"Who are you, my father?" she said sarcastically.
"No, of course I'm not," he said, looking confused, "But you're still healing. You need to recover properly."
"I don't understand this," Miriana snapped, feeling suddenly, irrationally angry, "Why are you bothered about me?"
"I...I don't really know. I just am," he murmured, almost like it was a confession to some terrible crime. He dropped his gaze again, but not before Miriana saw the anguish in his dark eyes. She couldn't understand why he was so terrified of letting any emotion through his cold facade.
She touched his arm lightly, brushing the sleeve of his tan trench coat with her fingertips, afraid he would disappear if she pressed any harder. He seemed so afraid of contact. She was glad he didn't jerk away.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly, "I didn't mean to get angry."
"I'm sorry," he insisted, "I didn't mean to upset you."
"You didn't," Miriana said hastily, "I'm just too much of a hothead sometimes."
She suddenly realized that she was still lightly touching his sleeve, and she quickly dropped it to her side. The silence between them stretched again, but it was broken by a loud shout coming from the direction of the house.
"Miriana!" Nate was shouting, crunching across the gravel.
"Oh crap, that's Nate," she said breathlessly, turning in the direction of his voice, then back to Castiel.
"I have to leave now anyway," he said, although Miriana could swear she could hear a tinge of disappointment in his voice. One second he was there, and the next second she felt a light breeze brush across her skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps, and he was gone.
"There you are," Nate said brusquely, "How you can disappear on such a short amount of space?" he looked around the empty garden, "Were you just talking to yourself?"
"No, of course not," Miriana barked quickly, hoping the blush wouldn't show in her cheeks. She rubbed her arms to hide the goose bumps that were still so obvious on her pale skin.
"Huh. I thought I heard you talking to somebody."
"Well I wasn't," she snapped.
"Alright, alright don't damage your blood pressure," he snapped back, "Your bags are in your car."
She ran a hand through her hair, "Nate, stop," she said, holding out a placating hand, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap."
He didn't turn around, and Miriana expected him to sweep off in a rage, but the next second he had barrelled into her, throwing his long arms around her shoulders, crushing her tightly against him. She extracted her arms with some difficulty and patted him on the back.
"Can't you stay?" he asked, his voice muffled by her shoulder.
"Dean and Sam need me," she said; it wasn't technically true, they didn't need her at all. But it made it easier for Nate. He let go of her, and she stepped back and ruffled his jet black hair so it became even more tousled.
He walked her to her car, where her aunt was waiting. It was a long and fairly teary goodbye for all three of them; it sounded morbid, but with a life like Miriana's, you simply never knew when you would see the ones you loved again. All it took was slip up, even for the most experienced hunters.
As she climbed into her Mercedes, her aunt caught her arm and murmured quietly, "Take extra care of yourself, sweetheart. The world's gotten darker than we've ever known it."