Angel
-Jimi Hendrix
She let the lie go.
For now.
Sam had escaped from the motel under the guise of getting food, but it wasn't hard for Rhiannon to see right through it. Even an unpracticed psychic would be able to sniff out the lie. Dog shit had a better smell. The young Gypsy had to keep reminding herself that it wasn't her place to confront him.
Lies had a way of being revealed eventually. She just hoped the fallout between the two brothers wouldn't be nuclear.
Sighing, Rhiannon rested contently on her stomach leafing through a tattered book on summoning rituals Bobby had left her. It was surprisingly straight forward, at least the parts she could read. Latin wasn't exactly her forte. The three of them had managed to round up the necessary supplies to complete the ritual with surprising ease. All it took was a quick trip to the local hardware store and a small shop that looked like something out of dungeon and dragons.
Now all they needed was to summon the creature.
Bobby was still looking after Pamela and had made it abundantly clear that Dean wasn't to start anything without him. Rhi could tell the blond was itching to get at it, but he knew better than to cross the old hunter. So, they were stuck waiting.
Compared to other hotels Rhiannon had seen the boys stay in, Hotel Astoria was fairly decent. It was decorated in hues of beige accents with dark painted walls. The sketchiest part of the room was the tiled mirrors that rested on the ceiling above the bed.
Gross. God only knows what kind of things they had seen.
There had only been a single available, but luckily the sofa converted into a pull-out bed which is where Dean currently sat propped up against the flowered backboard, head on a pillow, book resting in his lap as he lightly snored.
The redhead lightly rubbed her temples, the beginnings of a headache forming. She had been reading way too much. Finally shutting the book, Rhi decided to join Dean in getting some sleep. Who knew when Sam was going to be back. Not wanting to force the two brothers to share the pull-out, Rhiannon pulled herself up to lie next to Dean's sleeping form.
Something was off though. The motel room was quiet. Too quiet for her liking, even with Dean's soft snoring. Then, there was something else, a soft whisper echoing around her. It almost sounded like it was calling her name.
Rhiannon jumped a little, stirring Dean from his slumber. The small television next to the couch had turned on, the white noise filling the room, followed by the tuning of the radio. Just like at Pamela's house the night before. Dean groggily wiped the sleep from his eyes before settling his gaze on her.
"You turn the television on?" He asked, afraid he already knew the answer. Rhiannon swallowed back the lump beginning to form in her throat and shook her head. The blond hunter's eyes widened as he surveyed the room before quickly sitting up. He reached over the redhead, pressing his body firmly against hers, and grabbed the shotgun from the side of the bed. With one quick roll, the hunter was on his feet, shotgun in hand, as he swept the room with Rhi on his tail.
The Gypsy kept one hand on the back of his shirt, her fingers burrowed in the fabric tightly. She noticed Dean's panicked expression at seeing Sam's bed empty, but it was quickly schooled as he raised the shotgun at the door to their room, ready for anything.
Rhiannon.
The redhead gasped when she heard her name, the voice was deep and raspy, filling her with a sense of sudden calm. Whatever she was hearing, it was clear to her that Dean was not hearing the same thing. The elder Winchester brought a hand up to his ear, cringing at some unknown sound. Rhi wondered if he was hearing the same ringing that had broken the windows at the gas station.
Rhiannon.
There was her name again. Was that all it knew how to say? Rhi didn't get the chance to ponder the significance. Dean let out a low growl, dropping the shotgun to the ground before covering both of his ears in obvious pain. It was enough to bring him to his knees, his eyes squeezed shut against the onslaught of ringing that warped through his head.
"Stop it," Rhiannon cried as she knelt in front of Dean, his low roars of pain causing her to cringe. "He can't hear you." Her plea didn't seem to matter, or it couldn't be heard. Rhi let out a shrill cry, moving herself to cover Dean's face as the windows around them began to explode, glass falling over them like rain in a thunderstorm.
The blond looked up at the ceiling, seeing the cracking of the mirrors above, and panicked. Instinctively, he launched himself at the redhead, throwing them both out of the way of the falling shards. The hunter wrapped his arms around the girl, curling her into his chest while she reached up to cover his ears the best she could.
The pair could hear Bobby yelling their names, but it seemed so distant.
Once the onslaught of ringing had stopped and the glass had settled, Rhi removed her hands from Dean's ears, her entire body shaking beneath him. Dean cooed soothingly at her, drawing her trembling form into his chest as he sat them up with her nestled between his legs. He could hear Bobby calling his name, but his ears were still ringing making everything sound as if he was underwater.
"You're bleeding." Dean turned his attention from the older hunter who was walking around the room picking up books, to the small girl in his arms. Her grey eyes looked up at him worriedly as she raised a hand to his ear.
"So are you." He grimaced at the large cut on her forehead. "Where's Sam?" Dean looked around the room unable to find his brother.
"He went out to get some food a little bit ago," Rhi assured him. "He's fine." Dean nodded before turning his attention back to Bobby.
"We need to do this tonight," Gently, he untangled himself from the girl and stood, bringing her along with him. It didn't escape his notice how shook up she was. Her legs were shaking, and she was paler than normal. "We've got all the supplies."
"You can't be serious," Bobby shook his head as he grabbed up a few of their bags. "What about Sam?"
"He's just gonna bitch about the danger," Dean told him as he hefted the remaining bags on his shoulder. Turning to Rhi, he motioned for her to stay put. The redhead was about to argue when she realized she was barefoot in a room filled with glass-covered floors. "Be right back."
All she could do was nod while the hunters left her alone in the empty motel room. It gave her a moment to think. Why hadn't Dean heard the voice? More importantly, why could she? It was the same voice that had called out to her at Pamela's, that had warned her. Was it warning her now?
"Here we go, princess." Rhiannon let out a small yelp as Dean suddenly bent down and lifted her into his arms. "Hang on." The redhead tightened her hold on his neck as he carried her through the war-torn room and out into the hallway where Bobby was holding her shoes.
"This is a bad idea." The elder hunter was still shaking his head as the three of them loaded up into Bobby's car and hit the road. Dean was convinced it wasn't. They had the demon blade and Bobby's arsenal. They could handle whatever it was that was coming at them.
"It's after Rhiannon," Dean ticked his head back to the girl who was staring out the window of the back seat. "And me. We need to get rid of it before it does some serious damage like killing someone."
"We need Sam for this." Dean huffed.
"He's better off staying out of this."
The dilapidated barn stood just outside the borders, abandoned, and looking entirely too tetanus-y for Rhi's liking. The three of them worked tirelessly for almost two hours as they covered every end of the rectangular barn in every protection charm and sigil Bobby could think of from around the globe. Rhi only hoped she had copied hers right.
"Take this," Dean handed her a large silver dagger inscribed with a myriad of different runic symbols. "Use it if you have to." Rhi nodded and smiled up at him, grateful he trusted her enough to give her a weapon. The redhead clasped the dagger tightly in her sweaty hand sending up a silent prayer that she wouldn't have to use it.
"This is still a bad idea," Bobby looked worriedly at the table covered in weapons. There was enough there to kill anything they had ever heard of.
"Heard you the first ten times, Bobby," Dean sniped, guilt building when he saw the old man's face drawn down into a hurt frown. Dean sighed. "What do you say we ring the dinner bell?" His tone was softer this time. The bearded hunter rolled his eyes before making his way over to another table filled with the materials needed for the summoning ritual.
Rhiannon watched curiously as Bobby sprinkled something pungent into the silver bowl, watching as the combination of materials caused a small drifting of smoke to rise. His voice filled the silent warehouse, the elegant Latin words rolling seamlessly off of the old hunter's tongue.
"How long does it take?" Rhi asked curiously once he had finished the ritual. Bobby shrugged.
"Hell if I know." Rhi giggled nervously as she sat upon the table next to Dean.
Thirty minutes later and still nothing. Rhiannon was beginning to think that something went wrong or that whatever it was they were trying to summon needn't be bothered. The redhead rested her head against Dean's shoulder, watching tiredly as he twirled the tip of the demon blade into the worn wood beneath them.
"How's your head?" The young hunter looked down at her concerned. The cut wasn't deep enough to need closing, but he had noticed she was slower to respond to some things than normal. He'd been making sure to keep her awake, but that was getting harder and harder.
"It's fine," She mumbled against his shoulder, grey eyes drooping a bit. "Feels like there is a mariachi band going off in my head though. Complete with maraca's and a kazoo." Dean chuckled a bit at her attempt at humor.
He had to give props; she wasn't one to really complain. It was part of the reason why he had taken very little notice of her state before they had reached Pamela's. Besides her outburst at the motel, Rhiannon didn't seem to be one to draw much attention to herself. She didn't complain or whine when she didn't like something, hell, she had barely said anything their entire trip. She was quiet and reserved and that was fine with Dean, but the spark of fire and humor she often showed piqued his interest.
"You sure you did this ritual right?" Dean confronted Bobby. Rhi snorted at the look the old man gave shot him.
"Sorry," Dean waved a hand in lazy apology. "Touchy, touchy, huh?" Just as he was about to harass Bobby for the third time, the three of them jumped to their feet as the metal roof of the barn began to shake above them. Dean pulled Rhiannon behind him as he eyed the shuddering roof.
"Wishful thinking," Dean kept his eyes alert. "But maybe it's just the wind." Rhi rolled her eyes.
"And I'm Mary Poppins." She muttered. Dean cast her a small glare. There wasn't much heat behind it, but Rhi could see his annoyance. The redhead simply beamed up at him before letting out a shrill yelp as the lightbulbs above them sparked and shattered.
The barn doors were thrown wide open, the heavy two by four holding it closed snapped with ease, like a twig beneath a hiker's foot. The figure of a man stalked forward, unbothered by the chaos of the sparking lights above them. His footsteps were sure, face drawn up impassively as he continued his approach.
Castiel.
The name came to her mind as if it had been there all along. She knew from just one glance that was who this was, and he was no demon or shapeshifter. He seemed to have his own aura, but it was colorless, almost translucent. The brightness of it surrounded him, causing Rhiannon to shut her eyes for a moment so that she could adjust to its magnificence.
Never in her life had she seen such a thing before.
Dean was first to fire, his shotgun rounds hitting Castiel just below his heart. He didn't even flinch, nor did his footsteps falter. Two more rounds and still he kept coming. The hunters looked at one another in disbelief, unsure of how to proceed. Dean sneered, stepping out from in front of Rhiannon to grab the demon blade from the table.
"Who are you?" Dean growled as Castiel came to a stop in front of him.
"I am the one who helped grip you tight and raise you from perdition." His voice was just as deep and gravelly as it had been in the hotel room.
"Thanks for that." Dean snarled and Rhi gasped as he plunged the blade into Castiel's heart. The man looked down at the knife buried in his chest before casually taking it out and dropping it. Holy Hannah! Who the hell was this guy? Dean's eyes widened in panic, his gaze flickering to Bobby who took the chance to swing at Castiel with his crowbar.
Castiel huffed in minor annoyance as he turned to catch it mid-swing. Rhiannon bit her lip anxiously as a whisper of voices rose up around them. Castiel had managed to knock Bobby out without any effort. The hunter hit the ground hard. The man cocked his head, staring down at the bearded man on the floor for a moment before turning his attention back to Dean who had stepped protectively in front of the redhead.
"The three of us need to talk," Castiel's azure gaze found hers, his face softening. Dean struggled to keep his temper under wraps as he stalked over to Bobby to check for vitals while Castiel perused one of the books on the table.
Rhiannon wondered what he was. He certainly wasn't a demon, that was for sure. His aura was still blindingly bright, but her eyes had come to somewhat adjust to it. He looked almost like a banker or an accountant dressed in a black suit and tie with a tan trench coat.
Maybe he's the doctor. Rhiannon giggled to herself. All he needs is a Tardis.
He had slick black hair and a nearly clean-shaven face. Light caramel skin accented the blue of his eyes. His lips were thin with a prominent cupid bow and a long stark nose that softened his strong jawline.
"Who are you?" Dean repeated angrily from his crouched position next to Bobby. He was losing his patience.
"Castiel." The man said simply, still leafing through the small book. Every now and again he would lift his gaze to the redhead before turning back to the book.
Dean sneered at him. "I figured that much. I meant what are you?"
Castiel looked up, his eyes softening as they moved between him and Rhiannon. "I am an Angel of the Lord." The pair was speechless.
That explains the aura. Rhiannon thought. No wonder it's so bright and warm. It's his soul.
Dean stood; eyes hard as he surveyed the man in front of him. "Get the hell out of here," He rasped. "There's no such thing." Castiel moved away from the table towards Rhiannon, whose grey eyes were studying him with newfound wonder. It took everything Dean had not to move to her.
"This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith," Castiel gave the hunter a long look before turning back to the redhead who stood before him. "She believes."
Dean shot the redhead a frosty glare.
Rhiannon merely shrugged her shoulders. "I believe him," Her voice was a breathy whisper. "His aura isn't like ours or the demons. It's bright and warm. Almost too bright really."
Rhiannon gasped, eyes widening as lightning lit up the barn, a pair of giant shadowy wings stretching out behind the Angel. He just stood there, patiently waiting while Dean came to terms with the evidence laid out before him. Finally, the hunter nodded in acceptance before shaking his head almost sadly.
"Some Angel you are," Dean sneered. "You burned out that poor woman's eyes."
Castiel closed his eyes for a moment, his head cast down in shame. "I warned her and Rhiannon not to spy on my true form. It can be…" He paused, searching for the right words. "…Overwhelming to most humans. So can my true voice. You already knew that."
"The gas station? The motel room? That was you talking?" Dean asked in disbelief. Castiel nodded gravelly. "Buddy, next time lower the volume." The hunter turned to Rhiannon. "What does he mean he warned you? When?" Rhi bit her lip.
"During the séance was the first time I heard him," The redhead admitted. "I tried warning Pamela to stop." Dean nodded his head, he remembered that warning. The psychic hadn't listened. "The second time was at the motel room." Dean shook his head and huffed angrily.
"And you decided to just keep it to yourself?" Rhiannon frowned sheepishly.
"The first time I thought it was just because of my connection to the séance," She admitted. "In the motel room, all I heard was my name, and I wasn't even sure if what I was hearing was real or just my imaginings." Dean rolled his eyes.
"Those were my mistakes," Castiel stepped forward. "Certain people—special people, like Rhiannon, can perceive my true visage. I thought you, Dean, would also be one of them. I was wrong."
"This isn't your true visage, is it?" Rhiannon gestured at him.
"This?" Castiel asked as he looked down at his vessel. "This is a vessel."
"You're possessing some poor bastard?" Dean snarled; disgusted.
"This was a devout man," Castiel assured him. "He prayed for this." Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"Why would an angel rescue me from hell?" Rhiannon frowned at the question but also at the doubt that was seeping into Dean's aura. The hunter didn't believe he deserved to be saved.
"God commanded it," Castiel stalked forward until he was mere feet from the angry and confused hunter. Rhiannon stood off to the side, watching the pair stare each other down. "He has plans for you, Dean Winchester. Just like he has plans for Rhiannon. Your destinies are interwoven together, part of a greater plan."
"Wait," Rhiannon stepped up beside Dean. "What do you mean? I'm not even from this…world or whatever." Castiel looked down at her, eyes shining. He smiled and for a minute, Rhi was caught up in the brilliance of it.
"You really don't know how important you are, do you?" Castiel's face lit up in wonder at her innocence to her heritage. "Rhiannon McCall, last of her kind. There is a reason why you can hear me, Gypsy. A reason why you were able to walk through the veil between realities. Your magic is what allowed me to pull Dean and you from hell."
Dean's mouth dropped open, his hard gaze shifting to disbelief as he stared at the redhead. She's the reason he was able to make it from hell? Pamela had said she was special, but he assumed she meant in regard to psychics and her aura reading, not helping to pull him from the pit.
"But I didn't do anything," The redhead protested frowning. "I don't even know how I did it. One moment I'm dreaming of Dean in hell and the next I woke up in his coffin." Castiel laid a broad hand on her shoulder, his touch gentle and warm.
"All things will be revealed in due time," He assured her. His hand came up to her forehead, hovering above the large cut. Dean watched, utter disbelief splashed across his face, as the cut healed before his eyes. "God has need of you both."
A/N: And the plot thickens! I hope everyone has a great valentines day or anti-valentines day! Thank you everyone for the great and awesome reviews! I love love love them! Keep it up!