Sam pressed the steaming hot cup of tea in her trembling hands.
"Here, this will help," he said gently.
Her eyes still wide, she took a sip obediently. It was nice and hot, with a kick to it. Obviously the guys believed in the old alcohol-as-a-cure regiment. Fleetingly, she thought the best comfort would be to be in Castiel's arms again. At this point, however, she was in no mood to argue.
Dean looked questioningly at Cas. The angel was still looking at the woman, gazing at her almost tenderly. Dean sighed. He knew the signs, even if Cas was completely clueless as usual. The angel was developing a crush. He would have laughed if he had not been so amazed.
He cleared his throat. Cas's eyes went to him, almost guiltily.
"You were saying …?" he asked.
"Nathalie is the seventh seal," Cas repeated.
Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, we got that. What happened exactly?"
He opened his mouth to answer but Nathalie interrupted him.
"You came because I prayed to you," she said quietly, her eyes searching Cas's. The angel gazed back at her, his eyes a brilliant blue.
"Yes," he said.
Nathalie nodded. "Glad you edited out the 'crap' in my prayer," she half-joked. Castiel looked at her blankly.
Sam crouched next to her. "Can you tell us what happened?"
She took a deep breath, laughing shakily. "I'm still trying to process it." She paused. "I was at the bar. Something was in Mike, the bartender. I don't know … his eyes were all black."
Sam and Dean exchanged glances.
"He told me someone wanted to meet me. And then a woman showed up … no, a ghost of a woman showed up.
"I threw some salt at her" – she saw the boys' surprised looks and smiled. "I read that in your book."
She continued: "She didn't go away though; I didn't have enough salt. But then Castiel appeared and brought me here."
"What happened to the demon?" Dean asked.
"Demon? You mean Mike was possessed?" she asked.
Dean nodded.
"I think Castiel tried to do something but Mike … I mean the demon … said 'Not this time' and left, I guess. There was black smoke," she said, looking to Sam and Dean for confirmation. Sam nodded, Dean brooded.
"He escaped before I could touch him," Castiel explained.
Nathalie frowned. But that wasn't true. If he had not been holding Nathalie, he could have touched the demon and killed him. But he didn't let go of her.
Sam took her hands. She shifted her attention to him. "You mentioned a ghost. Can you describe her?"
"She wasn't someone I've seen before, I'm sure of that," she said after a long pause.
"What else?"
"She had a gunshot wound in her chest," she replied. "Is that significant?"
The brothers nodded. She gave them a questioning look.
"Yeah. We know how the ghost is gonna gank you," Dean said.
Nathalie flinched. Sam glared at his brother, who looked suitably chastened.
"Insensitive much?" Sam said.
Nathalie put up her hand. "It's fine. I understand."
She sat on the bed in silence, her mind racing.
"Wait, no, I don't understand," she finally said. The men looked at her.
"The other people all died because they were the only survivor in a family murder-suicide. But my mom is still alive. And my dad died of a heart attack. So why am I the target?" she asked.
"Huh, good question," Sam said.
"Were you adopted?" Dean chimed in.
"No."
"You sure?"
Nathalie glared at him. Sinful good looks did not excuse general douchiness.
"This is beside the point," Castiel intervened, his gravelly voice harsh. He had felt Nathalie's need to be held, to be comforted and it confused him. He was desperate to be away but felt tethered to her.
"We know she is the seventh seal. All we have to do is make sure she is alive until the time to break it is done," he added.
Dean clasped his hands together. "Sounds good to me."
Sam snorted. "Dean, don't you want to know why?"
"Of course. Which is why you and me will investigate, and flyboy here will babysit her," he said, smirking.
Castiel wondered if smiting Dean would really be a bad thing.
They went to Nathalie's apartment; she refused to spend the night in the motel room, pointing out the lack of bed space and utilities.
Dean had tried to argue, saying the motel room was smaller which meant it was easier to secure against demons and ghosts. Nathalie was obstinate. She had looked him straight in the eye and said, "My ass, my choice."
The kicker was when Nathalie pointed out they would have better access to information and food at her apartment. Sam, who had been watching the argument with amusement, had agreed.
Dean gave his brother a disgusted look. "Turn-coat," he accused.
"I'm sorry, Dean, but she has a point. We have to find out more," Sam said.
Dean rolled his eyes, threw up his hands and gave an exasperated snort. "Fine!"
Castiel had reluctantly agreed to go ahead to Nathalie's apartment to check for any danger. The brothers packed up what they could and headed out, Nathalie in tow.
There was yet another argument over the Impala; Nathalie wanted to get her car. Dean was ready to strangle her.
"What's wrong with my car?" he asked angrily.
"It stinks," she said, wrinkling her nose. Sam sucked in his breath, insulting the car was tantamount to stabbing, shooting and flaying Dean. All at the same time.
Dean blinked. "Excuse me?" he said, his voice rising. Nathalie crossed her arms, her face stubborn. Dean glared at her.
Desperate to keep the peace, Sam stepped in the line of fire.
"I'll get Nathalie's car," he said.
They both glared at him.
"It's fine. We should check on your friend anyway," Sam added.
Nathalie gasped. She had forgotten all about Mike. All fight went out of her. Meekly, she nodded and got into the Impala without a word.
"Oh great, now you're gonna leave me with her?" Dean asked, angrily.
Sam tried to hide a smile. "Try not to kill her."
Dean threw Sam a dirty look and nodded curtly. He got into the car, ignoring Nathalie. For her part, she sat huddled in the passenger seat, hugging herself.
Despite himself, Dean couldn't help feeling sorry for her. It must be tough, a ghost kills your best friend and then suddenly, you find you're the next target.
"You don't have to feel sorry for me," she said, a bit harshly than she intended. She had felt his glances.
Dean narrowed his eyes.
Nathalie sighed. "I'm sorry, that came out wrong."
"Apology accepted," he said.
Nathalie opened her mouth to argue that she wasn't apologizing to him per se, but decided against it. Dean glanced at her.
"What? No comeback?"
She shrugged, hopelessly.
"It's useless, isn't it?"
"What do you mean?"
"A ghost is after me. You don't know who or how to stop it. And I certainly can't help you. I don't know anything," she said.
"You never know. Me and Sam, we've managed to pull some stuff out of our asses before, saved the girl." Dean gave her a side along glance, sporting a cocky grin.
"And I bet the girls were always 'grateful'," she said sardonically. She couldn't help smiling, though.
Dean grinned. "You wouldn't believe how grateful they were. Some of them were grateful multiple times, sometimes, their sister or roommate is grateful too," he said, sniggering.
Nathalie rolled her eyes and groaned humorously, covering her face with her hands. They rode together in companiable silence for a few minutes.
"Why don't you tell me about your childhood and your mom?" Dean ventured.
Nathalie glanced at him.
"It might help," he added.
She nodded. Taking a deep breath, she told Dean everything she could think of about her life, how normal it was. About her family, growing up as an only child; her mother unable to have any more after waiting 10 years for her.
In turn, she asked him about his life.
"So you grew up doing this? Hunting monsters, demons and ghosts?" she asked.
"Pretty much," he said.
She considered what he said, biting her lip.
"And where do angels come in?" she asked.
Dean gave her a quick look. "Was wondering where this was headed," he said, his eyes on the road.
Nathalie blushed. She had not planned to ask the question, but it came out anyway.
"Cas is here because we're trying to stop the Apocalypse," he finally answered.
Her eyes grew wide. "Apocalypse? End of the world-apocalypse?" she stammered out.
Dean nodded, all business, none of the bad-boy swagger. He was expecting the next question, but it still surprised him when he heard it. Nathalie was quick on the uptake, her instincts good; in another life, she would have made a good hunter.
"Cas said I was a seal. The seal brings about the Apocalypse?"
Dean frowned, wondering if he should tell her everything. He finally chose honesty – cliff notes version.
"Not exactly. It just means we're closer to the end of the world … if … you know, if you died," he admitted.
Nathalie looked down at her hands. So, she must stay alive to save everyone she loved from the end of the world. She had no problem with that, except she now realized how single-minded the other side was about killing her.
For the first time in her life, she thought of how vulnerable she really was. Humans go about life with a small cloud of self-delusion, a mix of security and invincibility. But we could so easily be killed; fall down a flight of stairs and your neck could snap. Cross the street and a car could take you out in a second.
Intense blue eyes floated in her mind. Castiel, the angel. Would he be able to save her? She didn't know. From what she heard, it seemed that seals were not easy to save.
Dean glanced at her, concerned. He considered putting a comforting hand on her shoulder, but thought better of it.
They drove the rest of the way in silence.
Castiel looked around Nathalie's kitchen, his mind probing her apartment for any sign of spirits or demons. There was nothing.
There was a flutter of wings. He turned.
Uriel, his colleague and friend, was standing in the living room. In his guise of a tall, black man, his face was grave.
"Castiel, why are you still here?" he asked.
"I found the seal."
"That doesn't explain anything."
"Keeping her alive is the most important thing. Her death breaks a seal," Castiel explained in slow, measured tones.
Uriel walked around the living room, looking at Nathalie's photos, touching her magazines, smirking in contempt.
"You did not have to stay here and ..." Uriel's face twisted "… hold their hands."
"You know my orders. There is a chance to save the seventh seal and I am doing everything in my power to make sure it is not broken," Castiel replied.
Uriel went to him, his eyes intent on the angel. Castiel held his gaze as calmly as he could.
"But you haven't done everything in your power to save the seal," Uriel finally said.
Castiel averted his eyes.
Uriel shook his head. "All this for hairless apes," he sneered and left.
Castiel's expression darkened. Uriel's comment had touched a nerve. There was another way. Why wasn't he doing what needed to be done?
"You know the only lead we have is the gunshot wound, right?" Nathalie asked. They were in her living room, books and papers strewn on the coffee-table, mixing with the sandwiches she had made for Sam and Dean. She had made one for the angel too, but he had blankly told her, "I have no need of sustenance." He had taken the plate anyway.
She didn't bother making one for herself, the deep fear in her belly edging out any hunger pangs she might have.
Sam nodded. He was going through police and news reports from the 1980s. Since there was no Internet then, he had to use Nathalie's account to access the microfiche database and scan the reports.
"We're gonna have to search for any family deaths with gunshot. I don't know how you'll be able to connect it to me though," she added.
"One thing at a time, sweetheart," Dean drawled. He was cleaning his gun, one of the dozens he must have stashed in his bag.
Nathalie shuddered. The surreal setting was getting to her: her best friend killed by a ghost, her other friend possessed although luckily, he survived. Tomorrow, they were going to interview her mother, and now two brothers and an angel sat in her living room discussing calmly how to stop a ghost from killing her. It sounded outlandish.
Her eyes went to Castiel. He glanced at her when he felt her eyes on him.
She looked away, furious with herself. Every chance she got, it seemed her eyes would seek the angel.
Nathalie looked around the apartment. The men had secured the place, by drawing sigils at every entrance, called Devil's Trap, and put a line of salt at the windows, doors and along the walls. Castiel had secured the place further, though she did not see anything specific he did.
She got up. The men got up too.
"I'm just going to bed," she said.
Dean nodded. "Want me to tuck you in?" he asked, winking.
Nathalie shot him a dirty look. "Really? Is that all you can come up with?"
Dean cleared his throat, shrugging. "Can't blame a man for trying," he said philosophically. He gestured at Castiel. "Cas, you stay with her."
Something akin to alarm flashed across the angel's eyes, replaced quickly by his usual calm, impassive expression. He inclined his head.
"Of course."