Anyway, I've loved Supernatural pretty much forever and it was honestly a toss up whether this fic would be Dean/OC, Sam/OC or even Jack/OC. I decided to go with Cas/OC 'cause at the end of the day, Cas is my baby.
This follows the general plot/premise of the show, starting in season 5 (roughly somewhere in episode 10). However I don't want to be writing out lines from the show (and I don't think you guys want to be reading that) so in general the progression of this story will be fairly different to that of the show's, to keep from repeating or regurgitating the show's episodes.
I hope y'all enjoy!
~O~
The barrel of the long, refined gun spins with each flick of Dean's careful fingers. "We've got the Colt, we've got ammo. We need to find Lucifer and put him down." There is an impatient note in Dean's voice that can't be missed.
"Yeah, only problem is actually finding him," Bobby snaps closed a dusty book and drops it onto his mess of a desk. "You got any idea where he is, exactly?"
Dean huffs at the rhetorical question.
"Too bad Crowley couldn't tell us where he was going to be when he gave us the Colt," Sam sighs, rubbing his eyes. He looks tired, exhausted, even. From the stress of the impending apocalypse, no doubt.
"There may be a way to locate the Devil."
All three men jump at the sudden, unexpected voice and turn to find Castiel standing in the doorway between Bobby's living area and kitchen.
"Bloody hell, Cas," Dean shakes his head, pressing a hand to his chest like he's going to have a heart attack. "We need to teach you how to use a front door."
Cas frowns. "I know how to use a front door. I just choose not to."
Sam cuts in, "What do you mean there might be a way to find Lucifer? How?"
His tan trench coat flaps open as Cas walks forward. "We need someone who will know where the Devil is going to be, someone who can see the future. And who can see the future?"
Bobby, Sam and Dean all look stumped, but then Dean's eyes widen. "A psychic."
"Exactly."
"But…I mean, I thought psychics operated on more of low level stuff? Individual human's futures, stuff like that? Surely Lucifer is too powerful for them to see," Sam said.
"He is…for most psychics," Cas explains. "But I know for a fact that there is one psychic powerful enough to see his future, if she can hone her powers."
"How do you know that?" Dean asks.
"Because all the angels felt it when she was born, two decades ago now. Her birth caused a small earthquake in her hometown that resulted in a power outage."
Dean's eyebrows shot up. "And who is this mystery psychic?"
Tension seems to build around Cas's mouth as it flattens into a hard line. "Her name is Darcy Summers."
~O~
"Oh come on!" I slap the side of my age-old computer in hopes that it will miraculously turn back on. SLAP! No such luck. The screen stays black. "Dammit." I drop my head onto the top of the desk.
"Shh!" Someone hisses from the depths of my college library, but I don't want to hear it. I'm having an existential crisis, I don't have time for social niceties.
If I can't get my computer to work, I'm so screwed for my upcoming midterms. But I don't have the money to pay to get it fixed. I've eaten ramen noodles for dinner three times this week.
College tuition is a bitch.
I start packing my things up and shoving them into my shoulder bag. The sun is setting outside and I don't want to walk across campus in the dark. Usually I wouldn't mind, I just have a bad feeling that today is not the day to tempt fate.
Outside, the sky is a mirage of orange and pink, McGraw Tower standing tall and proud against the dusk afternoon. It really is a beautiful campus, I think.
Cornell was not an easy school to get into and honestly, I'm not that bright. I mean, I test well. Like, really well. Put a multiple choice paper down in front of me and even if it's on a subject I know nothing about, chances are I'll get most, if not all, of the answers right. I can always just…feel what's correct somehow.
But essays and assignments? Those I suck at.
It's a few flights of stairs up to my dorm room and my feet are aching by the time I arrive at my paint-peeling door. I unlock it and yank it open, expecting the small space to be empty. Instead, I am greeted by three fully-grown men looking through my things.
I freeze, my eyes wide. What the hell? They all turn to look at me and there is a freakily awkward moment where we stare at each other, dumbfounded. I would think they are campus security or cops, but they don't look like any authority figures. Not at all.
I back away, my bag sliding down from my shoulder and thudding to the floor.
"Wait, wait—" one of them calls out but I am not sticking around to find out what they want.
I run. Feet pounding, heart racing, I barely make it to the stairs before, magically, one of the men appears before me. I screech to a halt and fumble backward. Dark hair, grave expression, he stalks forward slowly, matching me step for step. How the hell did he get there? I question silently. I swore he'd been behind me.
"We aren't here to hurt you. We just need to talk."
"Yeah? Then message me on Facebook, don't break into my room," my voice shakes no matter how badly I try to steady it.
"This couldn't wait. It's a matter of life or death."
I flinch and spin at another voice behind me and come face to face with the tallest of the three men. Fuck. I'm surrounded.
"Look, we're not trying to freak you out, ok? My name is Sam Winchester. This is my brother, Dean," he motions to a handsome, brown-haired man, leaning on the wall behind him. "And this is Castiel, our… friend." Sam has an emotive, kind expression, one that says 'trust me, I won't hurt you'. I don't believe it for a second.
"That's great. But I actually have somewhere to be, so if you'll excuse me—"
"You're not going anywhere," Dean interrupts, pushing off the wall and coming toward me. "We need your help. And you're going to help us."
My arm is seized by the one that magically appears and reappears - Castiel - and I am all but dragged into my dorm room and tossed onto my bed.
Fear twists my stomach, but I won't let them see me cry.
"I don't know what kind of crazy Kool Aid you've been drinking, but I can't help you with…whatever it is you want help with," I say, staying seated on my bed, my back pressed firmly against the wall. "I mean, I'm a Communications major, what's more useless than that?"
"I know you're scared right now. We didn't want to do it this way, but we don't have a choice. Time isn't really on our side," Sam rolls my desk chair over and sits down.
"You're right," Castiel stops him from speaking further. "We don't have time for this." He strides toward me, staring down at me with piercing blue eyes and an intense expression. "You're a very powerful psychic with a lot of untapped power. We need your help to find the Devil and kill him before he starts the Apocalypse in a fight with Michael. Do you understand?"
I am wide-eyed and confounded. They're psychopaths. I'm being held hostage by delusional psychopaths.
"I think I understand that you're crazy," I say. I try to think of an escape plan but come up blank. Dean is standing at the door to the hallway and we're too high up for me to jump out the window. In other words, I'm screwed.
"Cas," Dean reprimands. "Subtlety, remember?"
"Right, because breaking into my room and ambushing me is so subtle," I mutter. My phone is in my shoulder bag, left out on the floor of the hallway. No dialling 911.
"You need to tell us where Lucifer is going to be," Castiel pushes, insistent. "It's imperative to the human race's survival."
"I'm not psychic! What is wrong with you? Lucifer, the Apocalypse? You sound insane," I try to push back further away from them, but I'm as tightly squashed to the wall as I possibly can be.
"You don't even know that you're psychic?" Sam asks, looking confused. "How could you not know?"
"Oh she knows," Castiel's gruff voice is intimidating. "She just doesn't want to admit it to herself." He leans down, his palms planting on my bed, till we are nearly eye level. I try not to cower back, but it's hard. "Can you really say that you didn't know something was going to happen to you today? That you didn't have some sort of vision about this moment?"
"A vision? I've never had a vision!" I exclaim. I think about the feeling in my stomach, the weight that's been there all day long. But that certainly wasn't some kind of vivid future-dream. "I might get inclinations sometimes but that doesn't mean I'm psychic. I'm just…intuitive."
He straightens back up slowly. "This is worse than I thought. Your abilities must have been blocked off in your mind somehow."
"Nothing was blocked off, alright? Did you ever think that maybe you just have the wrong person?" It's not that I'm staunchly against the idea of psychics and magic and whatever else. I've always liked to believe in something more than the boring humanness of everyday life. And, admittedly, some strange things have happened throughout my life that cannot be explained without some stretch of the imagination. But Lucifer, the Apocalypse and me as a psychic? That's too much.
"Maybe she's right, Cas. Maybe we got the wrong girl. She doesn't look like an all powerful psychic to me," Dean says, surveying my faded jeans, worn in sneakers and messy blonde hair. He looks thoroughly unimpressed.
I would be lying if I said it didn't make me a little indignant.
"This is the right girl. This is Darcy Summers," Cas says and my eyes widen.
"That's—….That's not my name," I shake my head. "My name is Darcy Jones. How did you—How did you hear that name?"
Sam and Dean exchange a look as Castiel frowns. "Darcy Summers is the name you were given at birth. I remember it."
A shiver runs down my spine. The only people who knew me by that name are dead and buried.
"You shouldn't know that…please, I can't help you. I need you to leave." My bottom lip wobbles dangerously and I sink my teeth into it to keep from crying. Confused doesn't even begin to explain how I'm feeling. I can't tell if these men are crazy, messing with me or…actually telling the truth.
The last option scares me the most.
"Look, we can't force you to help us," Sam says.
"I can," Castiel intones and Sam shoots him a look.
"Well we won't. But before you make up your mind about us, just hear me out, alright? Just let me tell you the truth about our world."
"I guess I don't have much a choice," I murmur, then stronger, "Tell me."
~O~
Ghosts. Vampires. Witches. Even dragons. All those I can wrap my head around. But demons and angels? The Devil himself? I've never considered myself a particularly religious person, but now I'm starting to question that decision. Maybe I should've prayed a little more and cussed a little less.
"….The Devil was locked away…in hell?" I question for clarification. Sam nods. "And somehow, he got out and now…he's here? On Earth?" Sam nods again. My head thumps back against my wall. "Right."
"I know it's a lot to digest," Sam says. He has these open, compassionate eyes that draw you in and make you want to believe everything he says. It's probably the only reason I'm actually considering all this.
"So what do you want from me? I can barely jog a mile and you want me to go toe to toe with the Devil himself?" I question.
"No, of course not. He would kill you instantly," Castiel chimes in with that helpful little tidbit.
"That's not what we need from you," Dean says. "We've got a way to ice Lucifer, we just need you to find him for us. He could be anywhere on Earth. We need a location."
"I can help you hone your powers, if you let me. You can learn to control them and harness them as you please," Cas says. We stare at one another, each trying to figure the other out. He is essentially unreadable, furrowed brows, narrowed eyes and ruffled suit all coming together to create a confusing picture.
"I—I don't even know if I believe you. I mean angels and demons? Seems a little farfetched, even for me," I point out.
"You want proof?" Castiel asks. "I can show you proof."
Dean pinches the bridge of his nose, like here we go, just as lightning strikes outside and the sound of torrential rain begins.
There is a terrifying whooshing sound, the lights in my dorm room flicker and in the next bout of lightning I see the shadow of large wings painted against the far wall, towering behind Castiel.
I can scarcely believe my own eyes.
It's terrifying and haunting and kind of beautiful, in a twisted way.
The rain outside slows to a gentle patter and the lights blink back on. Everything returns to normal as though a literal angel didn't just prove that every horrible thing imaginable is real. I don't move, don't even breathe. Honestly, I think I'm in shock.
"Do you believe us now?" Dean asks. My throat is too dry to speak, so I just slowly move my head up and down in acknowledgement. "Good. Then pack a bag, we got a long drive ahead of us."
~O~
I'm too confounded to even comment on the awesome car that they lead me to, hopping in the back seat wordlessly as Sam slides my duffel bag in at my feet.
I run my fingers gingerly over the leather. It's scuffed in places, but I can tell it's well looked after.
"I should just take us there myself. It'll be a lot quicker and we're already running out of time," Castiel speaks lowly outside the car as though I can't hear him.
"We've freaked her out enough, Cas," Sam says. "Zapping her around will only freak her out more."
"Yeah or make her sick," Dean comments, hand on his stomach. "I'm not going through that if I don't have to. We're driving like normal people."
"Fine, then I'll meet you there," Castiel says and then promptly disappears. Into thin air. I blink at the space he occupied a moment ago with wide eyes.
Dean and Sam seem to take his disappearance in stride, each hopping into the front of the car as though everything is normal.
"Ready to go?" Dean asks from behind the steering wheel, peering back at me in the rearview mirror.
I swallow thickly and pull my denim jacket tightly around myself. "Yeah…I suppose so."
The tires squeal and we take off.
~O~
A/N: If you enjoyed, I'd love to hear your thoughts in a review, no matter how long or short! Thanks and stay tuned for Chapter 2.